Wishes
by Angelswontdie
Summary: Have you ever heard the phrase 'be careful what you wish for, cause you just might get it? Leila has decided she's had enough of her lonely, going-nowhere life and prays to the gods, asking for a timemachine, hoping to fix her past mistakes and make a better future for herself. She wasn't counting on them actually listening and taking an interest, though...
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is my first story (that I've published online, at least), so please be kind in your judgement of it.

The actual gods don't make an appearance until chapter 5 (and even then they're in disguise), so be patient, okay?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't think there's anything 'ownable' in this chapter, so no disclaimer this time.

* * *

 **1.** **Prologue**  


I'm sure you have, at some point in your life, heard the phrase 'be careful what you wish for in this world, for if you wish hard enough you are sure to get it' or some variation on it.

The most common being 'be careful what you wish for, for you _might_ get it', spoken by people who wished as hard as they possibly could and had never gotten their wishes fulfilled, probably.

Now me, I prefer the original saying.

I think the people who wished and wished, but never got what they wanted just didn't wish hard enough.

Now imagine this: a warm summer evening, a festival on the town square, a shy girl making a wish on a supposedly enchanted fountain.

Sounds pretty romantic, right? Well, that is where this story begins.

...

"it won't work, you know," I hear someone saying, a mean tone in their voice that I choose to ignore.

"you can wish all you want, but even magic can't make _you_ pretty."

Beauty. As if I would spend my precious wish on something that trivial.

They might. Being pretty and popular means everything to them.

If they find a zit on their nose looking in the mirror during their two-hour-long morning rituals, they lose their minds, trying their damnedest to get rid of it and if they fail to do so, they call the school and say they're sick, just so their popular, pretty friends won't see them like that, won't realize that they're actually just human like everyone else.

Me, I get out of bed exactly fifteen minutes before I have to leave the house.

I take a five-minute-shower, I comb my hair, I put on my clothes – which I picked out the day before – and I leave the house just in time to catch the bus. No make-up, no endless fussing over my hair, no obsessively checking my face for irregularities.

I eat breakfast at the bus-station, an egg-sandwich and a bottle of chocolate milk.

No, I'm not super-pretty or popular, but I'm okay with that.

You couldn't pay me enough to live the life those girls 'enjoy'.

It just seems so unnecessarily stressful and miserable.

They're not allowed to have an off-day.

A bad-hair-day is a disaster, a fashion faux pas is tantamount to a federal offense and a single mistake – accidentally admitting to liking an uncool band, for example – is social suicide.

Well, consider me socially suicidal.

So no, I'm not wishing for beauty or popularity.

I'm wishing for the exact opposite.

I'm wishing that I could go back in time and tell my old self that trying so damn hard to be popular and pretty is not only a waste of time, it's a waste of energy, money and – most importantly – individuality.

I'd tell myself to listen to the songs I like, not the ones that happen to be popular.

To wear what I like to wear, not what happens to be 'in fashion'.

To buy the things I want, not the 'must-haves'. And I'd tell myself to never start smoking, do well in school – not drop out halfway through high-school – and to never, ever, ever go near that damn Peter kid.

I'd tell myself a million things, if I could go back in time. So I guess...I'm wishing for a time-machine. How cliché.


	2. The wish

**A/N:** This chapter is obviously MUCH longer than the last one, mostly because that one was just the prologue. Most future chapter will be about as long as this one (except eventually the epilogue, probably)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except that medal she uses (but sadly, it isn't worth that much in real life)

* * *

 **2. The wish**

I look at the medal in my hand and smile.

It really is pretty. It almost seems like a shame to throw it into the fountain, but that's what I intent to do anyway.

It was given to me this morning, at the bus-station, by a beggar.

I was eating my breakfast, an egg-sandwich and a bottle of chocolate milk, same as I have every morning.

Since I was so excited about the summer festival our class would be attending this afternoon, I could barely eat and when I only finished about half of my sandwich, I found I couldn't eat a single bite more.

So I walked over to the trashcans to throw the rest away.

A beggar came up to me and asked me if he – since I was throwing it away anyway – could have the rest of my sandwich, so I gave it to him.

I mean, even if I was a mean and selfish person, I still would've given it to him.

What's the difference in throwing it in the trashcan or giving it to a beggar?

Either way I paid for something I wouldn't be consuming myself, right?

So I might as well make someone happy with it, rather than just using it to create more work for whoever had to empty those trashcans.

In return for the sandwich, the beggar gave me this medal.

He said the picture on it was of Chronos, the god of time.

At the time, I didn't think anything of it. It's an old medal, sure, and probably valuable, but when I refused to take it, saying the beggar should just sell it, he insisted and practically shoved it down my pocket himself, so I took it.

I didn't think of it again until a few minutes ago, when our teacher started telling the story of this fountain, of how it's supposedly enchanted and wishes made on this fountain are more likely to come true than those made on any other wishing-well or -fountain in the world.

I wish I could go back in time to talk to my younger self.

I have this medal that portrays the god of time.

I have this fountain that can supposedly grant wishes to whoever throws a coin into it.

A medal is really nothing more than an old coin, right?

I sigh deeply, keeping my wish front and center in my mind, and drop the medal into the water.

And...nothing happens. Yeah, I'm not really sure _what_ I was expecting.

...

"oh, look. You're still hideous. What a surprise,"the same person who talked to me before I made the wish says.

I don't know her name, even though I've been in the same class as her for the last three months.

I probably won't finish this year and I'll never see these people again, so I don't bother to learn their names.

I never finish a full year in school.

Ever since I dropped out in my third year in high-school, I've tried to restart my education-program thousands of times.

First I would apply and re-apply to high-schools, never finishing a year, always dropping out after two or three months.

Then, when I turned twenty and was officially too old for high-school anymore, I started applying to colleges, but again I never finished a year.

All in all, I'm sure I got a full education – more than one, even – but I don't have a single diploma.

All the intelligence and book-smarts in the world still won't get me very far in life, if I don't have some piece of paper to prove I have it.

So no diploma, no friends, no job and no time-machine.

Man, that was a total waste of a medal that I could've probably sold for about three-thousand dollars or more.

I have half a mind to fish it back up, but that would be totally rude, so I just sigh and walk away from the fountain, ignoring the insults and high-pitched laughter from those Barbie-lookalikes that are the popular kids.

Well, since this is a college-class, I can't really call them _kids_ anymore, but seriously, the popular clique hasn't changed at all since high-school.

Their laughter still hurts my ears with how high-pitched it is, their insults still couldn't hurt me if I was trying to let them and they still stress over useless things like fashion and boys.

So unless they stop acting like kids, I won't stop calling them exactly that: _kids._

...

"this will be fun. It's a trip down memory lane," my mom sighs happily, steering the car off the highway at last.

After three hours in the car, I'm almost as excited as my mom to see our old house, if only because that means I finally get to get out of this cramped space and stretch my legs.

Beside me my sisters are babbling excitedly. 'oh look, that's where my friend from middle school used to live. I wonder if she's still here'. 'that's the playground where I broke my record of how high I could swing'.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here thinking things like 'oh look, that's the street where that asshole drove his bike straight _into_ my leg, so I had to go to the hospital and I ended up with a scar that is still visible to this day' and 'that's where Cindy used to live, the girl who bullied me mercilessly in high-school, causing me to drop out because I was so miserable, throwing me into this bottomless pit of uselessness that I still haven't dug my way out of'.

Yeah, this trip down memory lane will be great fun.

My mom stops the car and tells us to get out, something I do with great pleasure.

Well, the sooner we get this 'wonderful trip' over with, the sooner we can go back home and I can go back to pretending I know what I'm doing with my life.

I'm not even sure what came over my mom.

This morning she suddenly decided that she wanted to come back to our old home-town and revisit the places we used to visit, back when we still lived here.

I think it's some kind of midlife-crisis. She realizes now that even her youngest daughter is almost an adult and she doesn't have all that much time left with her 'little girls', so she tries to relive the years past, when we were still babies and heavily dependent of her.

That must be it.

What other reason could she possibly have for dragging me out of my room and forcing me into the car to make this three-hour-trip to a town I swore I'd never return to after I left?

...

After about two hours, I'm shocked to find I'm actually sort of enjoying myself.

I realize now that while my bad memories might be more prominent in my mind, there _were_ in fact some good ones as well.

Like Sandra, for example. A short, somewhat weird girl, who was my best friend in the first and second year of high-school.

She transferred to another school at the beginning of the third year, leaving me with no relief from the constant harassing of Cindy.

No-one to talk to about what her constantly annoying me did to my emotional health and my self-esteem, no secretly insulting her when she wasn't around to hear it because I was too shy and scared to do it to her face.

No friend, just Cindy. All day, every day. That's too much for any 14-year old to have to bear.

I consider myself to be a very strong girl, I always have been. I can take a lot of punches before I finally go down.

But Cindy, she punched and punched and punched and punched.

At school, before, during, between and after classes.

At home – she had convinced my mother she was my friend and my naïve mother actually believed her for over four months, so she let Cindy _into my room_.

On the internet, Cindy had access to my facebook-account, she had my e-mail address, she knew which chat-boxes I frequented – all courtesy of my mother, who believed Cindy's story that she'd meant to ask me in school, but forgot to and could my mom please give the info to her so she wouldn't have to bother me herself when I was busy doing my homework?

And everywhere else I went.

Every time I left the house, Cindy would find out where I was going – usually via my mother – and follow me there, just so she could annoy me some more.

...

Today, that amuses me. That girl had absolutely no life.

She spent _all_ her time stalking me, neglecting her friendships and her schoolwork in favor of spending all her time with me.

She probably had to repeat the year, just because she was so busy following me around that she never got around to actually studying for any tests.

Of course, that is now. Back then, I didn't think of that.

I just wanted to get away from her so badly, but no matter where I went, she would find me. It was awful.

But no, I'm not here to revisit the bad memories, I'm here for the good ones.

Sandra. Winning a walking marathon. Stuff like that.

No crazy stalkers allowed in my trip down memory lane.

Of course, it's almost impossible to ignore all the things that remind me of her.

The playground, where she would come every day, just because I did. The marathon, where I came in first, but she came in second, only because she walked as fast as she could so she could keep up with me, so she could be around me even then.

And, of course, the last part of our little trip: my high-school.

I can still see her lurking around every corner, waiting for me to pass by.

I can even _smell_ her as I approach my old locker, where she would wait for me _every morning_ , to make sure she was the very first person I'd talk to every day.

She was such a huge part of my life back then, so everywhere I go, memories of her keep popping up, completely banishing the good memories I'm trying to recall.

Still, I'm older and wiser now and the memories don't bother me as much as the actual experience did.

...

Watching some other kid opening my locker, getting ready for school – it's Friday, so the school is packed with students that actually go here right now – makes me smile.

I still remember myself opening that same locker every other morning, yelling every swearword I knew when one of the books in them fell out and hit my foot, because I'd carelessly stuffed them in there the day before, desperate to get out of this school and into my room as fast as was humanly possible.

And Cindy laughing every time that happened.

See now why I hated her so much? She was _always_ there. It was disturbing and terrifying.

Not only dirty old men stalk little girls. Other little girls can do it too.

As the kid in front of me takes his books and rushes through the halls, probably late for his class, I sigh deeply.

The hallway quickly empties of students, leaving me alone with my memories and my annoyingly cheerful little sister, running down the hallways laughing loudly.

Sure, she's almost a legal adult, but that doesn't mean she's anywhere near becoming an _adult_.

I take a few steps forward until I can run my fingers over the cold steel of my locker-door.

I carved my name in there with a screwdriver on my first day here and apparently they never bothered to replace the door, because I can still feel the indentations underneath my fingers.

Out of nowhere I'm hit with a dizzy spell.

Nothing new there, except it usually only happens when I stand up too fast or when I'm in an extremely stressful situation.

Low blood pressure.

I bend over and breathe deeply until it passes, only it takes much longer to pass than it usually does.

Maybe it's just the stress caused by coming here again, to the place where my life went from 'promising' to 'hopeless'.

I can hear the bell ringing, which surprises me, since classes only started about twenty seconds ago, right?

I can no longer hear my sister's annoying laughter, which is a plus, but it's replaced by the sound of my heartbeat, which is a definite minus.

I've learned long ago to recognize these signs.

Outdrawn dizziness? Check. Hearing the sound of my own heartbeat? Check. Seeing black spots? Check. Damn. I'm passing out.

I knew I shouldn't have come back here. This place is nothing but trouble. Always had been, always will be.

...

I open my eyes to a white ceiling I've memorized at some point in my life.

Every speck of dirt, every crack engraved in my memory like my name is forever engraved in that locker-door.

The sickroom of my first and worst high-school.

"feeling better?" I can hear someone asking, the sound of her voice sending shivers down my spine and making me dizzy again, as if I'm once again about to pass out.

I'm dreaming. There's no other way that person could be here.

What are the odds of that girl being here, in our old school, on the exact same day I am?

"you fainted," someone else says, sighing. "again."

The nurse that always had to carry me to the sickroom and nurse me back to health, every single time I fainted in high-school.

Which was _all the time._

I've always had low blood pressure and the tendency to keep everything bottled up inside. Anger, fear, sadness,... I kept it all stored deep inside of me where it couldn't bother me and eventually it would come out and slam into me like a cannonball to my gut, making me either faint or throw up.

I'm not surprised she remembers me.

I've been in this same room so many times I'm probably engraved in her memory as much as this room is in mine.

"I'm okay," I say, sighing as well.

My mom is going to wonder where I went.

"classes are already over. Cindy is going to walk you home. I don't trust you to walk home alone in this state," the nurse says, sending my mind into a frenzy of questions and denials.

Yep, I'm dreaming alright, I decide eventually.

 _Cindy_ is going to walk me home? Crazy stalker Cindy? Why is she here? And how could she _possibly_ walk me home when my home is about 150 miles from here? That'll be a long walk.

"come on. I took notes from all the classes you missed, so you can study them at home," Cindy says in that annoying sweet voice of hers, helping me to sit up on the bed.

Yeah, I also remember this part. Cindy being so deceptively nice to me all the time, but still following me around and making me damn uncomfortable.

She knew it too, I told her to stop following me at least a thousand times, but she never listened.

...

I just stare at the door as Cindy leaves me, finally – but never for long.

She left me in front of the house that used to be where I lived.

As I watch her walk away, she turns back to look at me at least seven times before finally entering her own house, no doubt running straight to her room so she can boot up her old computer and post weird comments on my facebook.

Just like she used to do. But how? And why? She hasn't aged a day. And she's still acting exactly the same as she did back then.

And the nurse treated me as if I was still a student in that school, even though I left over seven years ago.

"well? Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand there all day? Please don't tell me you're about to faint again. I am _so_ not dragging your fat ass inside again," I hear someone saying.

Seconds later my sister walks past me and walks into that house as if she owns the place.

Except, it's not really my sister.

Well, it is, but she looks barely eighteen. Last time I checked, she was twenty-five.

I shake my head and follow her inside.

I'm dreaming, I'm sure of it. Well, might as well make the dream last.

Maybe I'll get to tell Cindy where to shove it while I'm at it.

Wouldn't do me much good in real life, but I bet it'll be _real_ satisfying.

"Leila, can you pick up the mail when you come in?" my mom asks as I open the door.

I freeze, not sure what to do now.

This is a dream, right? If it's not, and I don't actually still live here, I'd be picking up a strangers mail, which is really rude.

But then again, would my mom ask me to pick up the mail if it wasn't ours?

Man, this stuff is confusing.

I shrug and turn back around, opening the mailbox and sighing at the four red envelopes in it.

I only know – _knew –_ one person who uses red envelopes. Cindy.

I'm tempted to just throw them in the trash instantly, like I used to do, but then I change my mind and take them inside, along with the rest of the mail. Picking out the ones addressed to me, I throw the rest on the table and run up to 'my' room, sitting down at my desk and starting up my ancient computer.

Well, it'll be ready to go in 3-4 hours if I'm lucky.

This is my dream right? So why does it have to be exactly the same as it all was back then? It would've been nice to at least have my laptop with me.

...

'dear Leila. I know you never actually read these, but I'm going to keep writing them anyway. It gives me something to do when I'm not around you,' Cindy writes in the first letter I open.

Okay...that's not creepy at all.

'I just want you to know that I really like hanging out with you, even though you act a bit cold sometimes.' A _bit_ cold? There were days when I flat-out ignored her all day, leaving her to talk and talk into nothingness, and she calls me 'a bit cold'?

'I wish we could do something outside of school sometimes, but every time I ask you, you say you're busy or you don't answer at all. Maybe you should get your ears checked. There are days when I talk to you and all day you don't respond once. Anyway, I hope there'll be a time soon when you're not so busy and we can hang out. I mean, really hang out, not you doing stuff and me just standing on the sidelines, waiting for you to pay me some attention. Well, I'll write again later. Love, Cindy.'

Right...that's...surprising.

I thought she was bullying me, but if this is supposed to be serious, she just wants to hang out?

So...she's literally 'stalking' me?

Like those creepy old men you hear about on the television?

I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or even more creeped out than I was back then.

Wait. This is a dream, right? So...I'm making this up? Or is this my subconsciousness trying to tell me something?

I throw the rest of the letters into the trash, it's probably more of the same thing anyway, and lean back in my chair.

Let's see.

Cindy always followed me around, yes, but she was never, _never_ mean to me.

She was always super-nice, actually. Taking notes in class whenever I fainted and missed one or more classes again. Helping me with my homework – on facebook, whenever I would complain about something I couldn't work out, she'd always be the first to offer the solution. Writing me all those letters – that I honestly never read until now and considering this is a dream, I don't think this actually counts.

Honestly, I never even thought of Cindy as a 'bully', any time I would think about her, I'd think of her as a 'stalker'.

...

I shake my head and grab my dictionary from my desk-drawer.

 _Stalker, noun._

 _(1) a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive behavior._

 _(2) a person obsessed with another to the point of insanity. I.E. following one everywhere, calling constantly, not following restraining orders, collecting personal items of target, etc._

Yeah...that actually sounds _exactly_ like Cindy.

Damn. I'm not sure if it's my subconsciousness or what, but this is big.

Cindy, the person who made my life a living hell, wasn't really a bully or a mean person.

She's just insane and needs help.

I shake my head again and, seeing that my computer _finally_ booted up, open Wikipedia and search for 'stalker'.

Wait, if I search for information inside a dream, do I actually get legitimate information, or just whatever my mind can come up with that sounds reasonable enough?

I sigh and shrug.

Whatever, dream or no dream, Wikipedia has found a match – stalking – and I start to read.

 _Stalking is a form of mental assault, in which the perpetrator repeatedly, unwantedly and disruptively breaks into the life-world of the victim, with whom they have no relationship (or no longer have). Moreover, the separated acts that make up the intrusion cannot by themselves cause the mental abuse, but do taken together (cumulative effect)._

 _According to one study, women often target other women, whereas men generally stalk women only._

There's a lot more information, but nothing that interests me.

Stuff about people who can't handle rejection and people searching for their soul-mate obsessively.

That doesn't sound like Cindy.

She just searches for a friend obsessively.

So maybe, if I agree to go watch a movie with her or something, I can convince her to stop following me around all the time.

Put a leash on her, so to speak.

That sounds reasonable enough, right?

Okay, so that's probably what gets most stalking-victims raped or murdered, but Cindy is a small girl. If she tries anything funny, I can easily overpower her.

Besides, it's kind of nice to have someone take notes for me when I'm unable to attend class.

Sandra used to do that for me, but obviously, she's not doing that anymore.

Well, neither is Cindy, considering 'today' is the first time I've seen her in seven years, but you get the point.

...

I open the rest of my mail, deciding to leave this Cindy-thing as it is.

For all I know I'll wake up in a second, back in my old school, with some unknown guy shaking me, trying to get me away from his locker so he can get his books for the next class.

I'll deal with Cindy when I need to and not a second sooner.

So, mail... Junk, junk, a letter from school reminding me there's a parent-teacher conference coming up, junk, junk, an envelope with only a coin in it, junk...

Wait.

A coin?

No, a medal.

It looks familiar. Where did I see this thing before?

Staring at the small medal in my hands I once again can hear my heartbeat and see black spots.

That medal...it's the same medal I tossed into the fountain. When I wished I could go back in time to fix my mistakes.

Damn.


	3. Fixing my mistakes

**A/N:** I know I have a tendency to make the world-building part of the stories a bit too long. Sorry about that. It'll get _way_ more interesting after this, I promise.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, not that I think there's anything ownable in this chapter.

* * *

 **3. Fixing my mistakes**

"look, Cindy. I'm sure you're a nice girl and all, but this whole 'following me around'-thing? Beyond creepy," I say when I'm still inside this 'dream that might not be a dream after all' by the next morning and I find Cindy waiting by my locker, just like she always was back then.

Back then I didn't have the guts to say these things to her directly, but now? I'm much older and smarter now.

I can say whatever I want and not give a single flying fuck if Cindy likes it or not.

What's the worst she can do? Make my life a living hell? Uh, been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

"I understand that you want to be my friend, and that's perfectly okay with me, but what you are doing now is called 'stalking' and I'm pretty sure it's against the law."

Cindy looks hurt, but she just shrugs.

"but you never have time to hang out with me," she says, as if that explains everything.

It doesn't. Not in my book, anyway.

I open my mouth to tell her fine, I'll hang out with her every now and then if she stops following me around, but then I change my mind.

Why should I make sacrifices just because _she_ has a mental illness?

"here's the thing, I have plenty of time to hang out with you. I just don't _want_ to hang out with you. You follow me around, show up at my house uninvited, follow me from website to website online, chase away everyone and anyone that could possibly consider being my friend, won't let me talk to boys, so I'll never get a boyfriend, write me at least seven letters _a day_ and call me about twice _per hour_. It's terrifying. I'm seriously considering getting a restraining order or moving to Tokyo, just to be rid of you for _one fucking day._ Please, please, please stop following me. Because if you don't, I'll have no choice but to report this to the principal. And if that doesn't work, the police," I say.

Cindy looks more and more hurt with every word I say, but I could care less.

Here's the girl that scared me so much I dropped out of school and ruined my entire future, because every time I'd try to go back to school, I'd get so scared that every single person coming to talk to me would be another Cindy that I wouldn't talk to _anyone_ , effectively turning myself into every school's pariah. The girl everyone loved to bully, because she was just so weak and antisocial.

"but I'm never mean, right? I mean, I take notes for you when you've fainted again," Cindy says and I sigh.

"I faint so often because I keep all this stress inside of me until my body can't handle it anymore and I black out. If you weren't following me around all the time, I wouldn't _have_ all that stress and I wouldn't faint, which means I wouldn't _need_ anyone to take notes for me, because I'd be attending all those classes _myself_ ," I say.

Sure, without Cindy in my life I'd probably still have fainted every now and then, but not half as often.

"look, you're obviously upset about something. Class is starting. I'll talk to you after class, okay?" she asks, but she doesn't wait for me to say ' _hell_ no, that's not okay' before walking off toward the classroom.

Crap. That didn't go as well in real life as it did inside my head.

...

Well, I've missed so many classes already, nobody's going to be surprised if I miss one more.

Time to talk to the principal.

I sigh deeply, shoving my stuff back into my locker and walking to where I think I remember the principal's office being.

I pass the sickroom on my way there and on a whim I decide to pay a visit to the nurse while I'm at it.

The Wikipedia-entry said you should tell as many trusted people as you can about your being stalked, so they can keep an eye out for you.

"miss Harolds?" I ask, sticking my head into the sickroom.

The nurse immediately turns her head, even though she seemed to be busy with a patient.

"what is it, Leila? Are you feeling dizzy again? Do you need to lie down?" she asks, sounding worried.

I smile.

I always liked miss Harolds.

She never judged me for fainting all the time, even when she saw me come into this room three times in one day, and she never accused me of faking it, like most of the teachers – and students – did.

"no, I'm fine, but I need to talk to you," I say, inexplicably nervous all of a sudden.

It's not like this is such a big deal.

I'm fixing my mistake, exactly what I made that wish for.

I won't let Cindy scare me into dropping out of school this time around.

That's a good thing. So why do I feel like I _am_ going to faint all of a sudden?

This isn't even my real life. My real life is seven years and 150 miles away, not here, not _now_.

"sure, what's up?" the nurse asks and I look at her patient.

She immediately understands that whatever it is I want to talk about, it's something private.

She gives the boy two aspirin and tells him to hang out in the lunchroom until the next class.

I sit down on one of the beds and sigh deeply.

"it's about Cindy. And about my fainting all the time," I say when she just looks at me questioningly, patiently waiting for me to start talking.

She nods, but doesn't say anything and I sigh again.

"Cindy is the reason I'm always fainting. Well, that's not really true, she's not _directly_ the reason for it. I faint when I have a lot of stress," I say.

Wow, I sound like an awkward teenager again.

Figures. I guess that makes sense, considering I now _am_ an awkward teenager again.

...

"Cindy is not my friend," I blurt out. "I don't even like her. I really want her to just leave me alone, but she won't. She's always following me around, in real life _and_ online. Even when I go to another _town_ , she'll board the train and follow me around there. She calls me twice every hour, sometimes _more_. She sends me letters and e-mails every day, dozens of them. It terrifies me. I tried telling her to back off, but she convinced herself we're BFF's or something. And if I tell her we're not, she says _I'm_ acting strange. I'm always on my toes, wondering where she is whenever I can't see her, because I _know_ she's around. She's _always_ around. That's why I have so much stress. And the stress makes me faint. And I read on Wikipedia that when someone is stalking you or following you around all the time, you should tell as many adults as you can, so..."

I take a deep breath and shake my head, trying to get the dizziness to go away.

"we need to tell the principal about this," miss Harolds says, sounding shocked and a bit angry, as always believing me right away.

She always seems to know exactly when someone is lying and when they're telling the truth and she apparently concluded I am now telling the truth.

"yeah, I was actually on my way to the principal's office just now, when I decided I should tell you as well. Like I said, Wikipedia said you should tell as many adults as you can, so..." I say, shrugging as if it's all no big deal, but really, I'm close to tears.

It's been seven years, but being back here, whether this is real or not, brings back all those old feelings of hopelessness and fear.

With those old feeling back inside of me, I wonder if I can actually fix anything or if I'm doomed to life the exact same life all over again.

Well, I 'fixed' one problem, or I'm working on fixing it, so it won't be exactly the same.

"um, I have these...these letters," I say, grabbing my bag and pulling out the six red envelopes, shoving them into miss Harolds hands.

Even though she believes me, I still feel the need to prove I'm not making this up.

"she sends me about seven letters a day, more on the weekends. These are just the ones she sent me yesterday and this morning. I threw the rest in the trash as soon as I got them. I only ever opened that one. I figured the others are just more of the same stuff, you know? I kept these because I decided that if I couldn't make her back off by myself, I'd tell someone about this. But it all sounds crazy, you know? Like I'm making this up because I had a fight with Cindy or because I want attention or something. So I kept them, so I could show them to the principal. Oh, and to my mother, but she left for work before I woke up this morning, so I'll show them to her after school. My mom's the one always letting her into my room and telling her where I am, even when I tell her to stop doing that, so I was hoping that by showing her those letters I could show her I'm serious, you know?" I ask.

Miss Harolds smiles comfortingly and looks at the letters, not opening the unopened ones, just reading the one I'd opened myself.

"you know I believe you. I can always tell when a person is lying and you, Leila, are not lying. You seem truly scared and confused. You can't fake emotions like that. But this will help convince the principal and the police," she says.

"oh no, I don't want to bring the police into this. It'll be a big drama. I just want her to leave me alone and maybe get some help, like, professional help," I say.

"we need to tell the principal about this," she just says again and then she gets up, apparently intent on going to the principal's office with me, but I'm afraid that is just going to have to wait, because now that I've finally told someone about it, about the thing I've been keeping hidden inside for _over seven years_ , all that stress just suddenly falls off me, leaving me lightheaded and dizzy and before I can even warn miss Harolds, the lights suddenly go out around me and I black out.

...

"this is downright disturbing," I hear someone saying as I'm slowly coming to.

"can you believe this? 'I'm happy just watching you from a distance, but every now and then I wish you'd turn around and notice me there. You know I'm always there. All you have to do is turn around and you'll see me'. This is sick."

I recognize the angry voice, vaguely, so I guess it's someone prominent from my 'past', but I can't figure out who until I open my eyes and see the principal, along with two police-officers, sitting in the sickroom, reading the letters Cindy wrote me.

The voice, that was the principal, who is sitting next to my bed with one of the letters in his hands, his hands clenched into fists so tight I can hear the paper tearing.

"according to this one, this Cindy girl and Leila here have been 'friends' for over two years. It's safe to assume they've never _actually_ been friends, which means this has been going on for that entire time," one of the officers says, sounding far less bored than I'm used to from police-officers.

They usually could care less about people's suffering, it only annoys them it's more work for them to do.

But not this one, he sounds horrified and concerned.

"one of my students has been horribly terrorized for _over two years_ and I never even noticed. I always thought those two really were friends," the principal says, apparently not realizing I'm awake and listening. "they were always together and Cindy always took notes in class for Leila when she'd fainted again. I knew Leila had those fainting spells unusually often and she gets sick all the time, but I figured she just had a weak constitution or some kind of illness. But this..."

"you couldn't have known about this. I see Leila almost every single day in this room and I never knew anything was wrong with her, except for her tendency to pass out at a moment's notice," miss Harold says and that's when I decide it's time to let them know I'm awake.

I sit up, slowly, so I don't black out again, and look at the officers.

"well, thanks a lot for calling the police after I told you I _did not want the police involved_ ," I say and I sigh when miss Harolds just looks at me, not saying anything.

"Leila, this is my little brother, Carl, and this is his partner, Ike. I called them, not 'miss Harolds'. When she showed me these letters, I decided the best action to take would be to let the police know about this. I called Carl because I trust him, he is my brother, after all. He came right over, bringing Ike because, well, he's his partner, so they're always together when they're on the job," the principal explains.

"we haven't written up an official rapport yet, we were waiting for you to wake up so we could take your statement on this," the officer who had sounded concerned, Carl, says.

"I don't want to make a statement on this. I just want Cindy to leave me the hell alone and get some professional help. She's mentally ill. That's what Wikipedia says, anyway," I say.

And, of course, Wikipedia is _always_ right.

Ah, the logic of a teenager. I never stopped using that logic, so even though I'm officially not a teenager anymore – though I am, once again, somehow – I still live by the golden rule that 'the internet is never wrong'.

"oh, I agree with you there. That girl needs some serious shock-therapy," the principal mumbles, making me laugh.

"you're not supposed to say that about one of your own students," I say and he smiles.

"that may be, but did you really think that, after all this, I still consider her to be 'one of my own students'? You can bet your donkey she's getting suspended indefinitely for this," he says.

"I don't own a donkey," I say, a bit confused, before translating that sentence into modern-day English. "oh, my _ass,_ " I say, making everyone laugh despite the seriousness of this conversation.

"yes, Leila, you can bet your _ass_ ," miss Harold says, smiling, before looking worried again.

"are you feeling alright? Do I need to call your mother?" she asks and I shrug.

"nah, I'll just tell her about this when I get home and hopefully she'll stop letting Cindy into my room when I'm not even there or telling her where I am all the time," I say. "and then I'll be able to focus on my studying again and I won't faint as often, so I won't miss as many classes and then my grades are going to become awesome and I'll graduate and go to college and a super-awesome university and I'll become some super-rich scientist or something."

Everyone laughs again, I don't think they have that much faith in me, before becoming serious again and focusing on those letters once more.

...

I sit in the lunchroom, watching the principal on stage telling everyone about my dirty little secret, wishing I was anywhere but here right now. Hey, I fixed my biggest mistake – not telling anyone about Cindy and letting her chase me out of school – so why am I even still here?

I wished I could go back in time to fix my mistake.

Which I did.

Wish fulfilled, you can send me back now, powers that be – or whatever I'm supposed to call it.

Well, I still – or actually, again – have that medal, right?

So am I supposed to go back to that fountain and throw it back in and wish I was back in my own time?

If that's the case, how the hell am I supposed to convince my mother to travel to a town 150 miles away from here, just so I can throw a medal into a fountain and make a wish?

Because there's no way I'm traveling all that way by train.

Even if I could afford it, which I can't, it would take me over four hours and at least three train-transfers to get there.

And just as much coming back.

Spend all that time and money on the off-chance it'll work?

Not gonna happen.

Or maybe I can't ever go back, having messed with the space-time-continuum so much that the reality in which I used to live doesn't even exist anymore and going back there would be like traveling into a giant black hole, killing me instantly.

I actually have no idea how time-travel works, outside of the things I learned from watching movies made by people who probably never traveled in time any way but forward – at the speed of exactly one second per second – in their entire lives.

"is it true?" someone asks, coming to sit down next to me. Oh, _hell_ no. "yes, now go away," I say, making Peter frown.

...

I remember this asshole.

He treated me like a shiny toy he'd bought somewhere on a back-alley market.

Like something he owns and can treat however he damn well feels like treating it.

If he doesn't want it anymore, he'll throw it away.

Then, later, if he decided he wants it again after all, he'll just take it back.

I wasn't allowed to have any opinion. I wasn't allowed to choose where we'd go out on dates, I wasn't allowed to come near him in school, I wasn't allowed to come anywhere _near_ his house, I had to keep our relationship a secret from _everyone_ , because he was flat-out _humiliated_ that he'd stooped so low as to actually start a relationship with someone like _me_.

And I stayed with him, and kept getting back together with him, because all the other boys stayed far away from me, courtesy of Cindy's meddling.

Now, with Cindy out of the way, I might actually have a chance to get a real, normal boyfriend, so like hell I'm going to settle for this idiot again.

Besides, I'd rather be alone than be stuck in that awful nightmare he calls 'a relationship' again.

"well, I understand that couldn't have been easy for you," he says, still talking and still sitting next to me. "but you shouldn't take it out on others."

I turn in my seat so I can glare at him.

"I'm not 'taking it out on other people', I just plain don't like you. I know people like you. You don't give a rotten fuck about other people's feelings. The only reason you're sitting here right now is because you heard the principal talking about a girl who had been stalked and terrorized for two years and your mind immediately went: 'hey, that girl must be awfully vulnerable right now. I bet with just a few nice words I could get her to fall in love with me, so I can treat her like my own personal slave for the next year or so, along with the other seven or eight girls I manage to trick in that time'," I say.

Peter just looks at me, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

"well guess what? I'm nobody's victim. Not anymore. Not _ever_ again. So you can take your kind words and your fake sympathy and shoved it up your fat ass, _comprende_?" I'm almost yelling at this point, but I'm not really angry.

I feel _good._

Peter opens his mouth to speak a couple of time, closing it again every time when he realizes I'm right, I _do_ know the kind of person he is and there's no way he can gracefully worm himself out of this one.

So he just gets up and walks away, without saying anything.

Well, guess I fixed _two_ mistakes so far. I'm actually starting to like this.

Maybe I just won't go back at all. I'm starting to like this new, not so new life of mine.

Besides, it's not like I have anything important to go back to.


	4. Lynn

**A/N:** Only one chapter left until Leila meets two of the gods, one of which is the one that put her in this situation.

Cindy and Peter have played their parts and will not return after this chapter, except in conversation.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the gods, I don't own those clothes, I don't own anything, though how fun would it be if I did?

* * *

 **4. Lynn**

"that. was. awesome," some girl I don't recognize says, taking up the seat Peter just vacated.

I don't recognize her because in my time-line I probably never actually talked to her. So over the course of seven years, I just forgot she ever existed.

"yes, it was," I agree, smiling widely. "man, that felt _great._ "

I laugh and the girl laughs with me.

"yeah, I can imagine. Nobody really likes him, but since he's one of the popular kids, nobody ever dared to speak up and stick it to him, you know? At least, not the way you just did," she says.

I shrug, still smiling.

"maybe so, but I just spent the last two years of my life being afraid and not daring to speak up and look where that got me. I've decided to fix myself up a bit. If I don't like something, or someone, I'm damn well going to speak up and let myself be heard," I say.

"you go, girl," she says, pumping her fist in the air, making me laugh.

"that was outdated even when it first came out," I say and she shrugs.

"maybe, but it fits, doesn't it?" she asks and I nod, laughing again.

"I'm Leila. But then, you probably already knew that," I say, gesturing to the stage where the principal is reading some grand speech about bullying and harassment.

"I'm Lynn. Actually my name is Gwendolyn, but nobody ever calls me that. And only my mother calls me 'Gwen', which she knows I hate, and only when I'm in trouble, but not in enough trouble for her to go 'Gwendolyn Marissa Torres', you know? Using my full name like parents tend to do when you're in _so much_ trouble. So...Lynn," she says, babbling away without ever coming up for air. It's actually kinda impressive.

"Lynn," I just say, nodding.

"that's me. And don't you forget it, because you and I are going to become great friends," she says.

I want to answer, but suddenly her eyes go big and she slaps her hand over her mouth as if she can't believe she just said that.

"I didn't mean...not like _that,_ " she says, pointing to the principal. "I just mean...you seem like a really cool girl, so...I didn't...um..."

I laugh loudly, making everyone around me turn their heads and frown at me, probably wondering if I've finally lost my mind or something.

"I know what you meant," I say when I've finally stopped laughing enough to form complete sentences. "and don't mind me. The whole Cindy-thing is over and done with. It's in the past and this time, it's staying there."

"this time?" she asks, sounding confused, but I just laugh again.

...

"what in the name of Zeus are you doing?" Lynn asks when she walks into my room and sees me throwing almost my entire wardrobe into big garbage bags.

"I'm donating these to goodwill," I say, shrugging. "I thought you said you were coming over around noon."

She sighs and nods, sitting down on my bed.

"I was here, standing at the front door, at exactly noon o'clock," she says.

I look at the clock and then back at her, confused. According to my clock it is now half past one. How could it possibly have taken her an hour and a half to get from the front door to my room?

And did she just say 'noon o'clock'? And 'in the name of Zeus'? Odd girl.

"your mother opened the door and made me sign – I'm not kidding here – a contract saying I was not going to turn into another Cindy, I had no intention of ever stalking you and I solemnly swear – it actually said that, in those words – that you really _did_ invite me over. I'm not sure why she couldn't have just come up and asked you about me, but whatever. After I signed the contract she spent an hour interrogating me, asking me about my likes and dislikes, what are my grades like, who are my parents,...? _Then_ she made me fill in this form she'd made. My full name, my age, the names and ages of my parents, where I was born, where I live, where I've lived before I lived there, my phone-number, my mother's phone-number, my father's phone-number, my e-mail address, my mother's e-mail address, my _father's_ e-mail address, what hospital I was born in,... I think this whole Cindy-incident scared her more than it did you," Lynn says.

At least, I think that's what she said. It's kinda hard to hear her talking over the sound of my own laughter.

Damn, I knew my mom had a crazy-streak, but this...?

"she made you tell her what _hospital_ you were born in?" I ask incredulously and Lynn nods, obviously completely serious.

"damn," I just say, shaking my head and then going back to emptying my closet into the garbage bags.

...

"so tell me again why you're throwing out every single thing you own," Lynn says when I've thrown all my clothes into the bags and start emptying my cabinets.

"I already told you," I say, still throwing stuff into the bags.

"yeah, you have the sudden urge to donate stuff to goodwill, but usually, you donate stuff you're just gonna throw away otherwise, not stuff you actually need," she says and I shrug.

"not that. The other thing I told you," I say. "I'm fixing myself up a bit, reinventing myself."

Lynn just looks at me stupidly and I sigh. "I bought _all_ of this because at some point it was considered 'cool' by the popular kids. Most of these are things I've never actually needed or even wanted. I just bought it because not having it was considered social suicide. Like, you actually _needed_ a portable game-station, even if you've never played a single game _in your life,_ " I explain.

"the same goes for all those clothes. I don't like them. I don't find them pretty or comfortable or even affordable. I bought them because fashion weekly told me they were hip and I was willing to spend _way_ more money than I actually had to spend, just to be cool. I'm done with that. So, I'm throwing all this shit away, except for those few things in that blue bag over there. Those were so expensive that I've decided to sell them, rather than give them away. With the money I make selling that crap, I'm going to buy cheap, comfortable, colorful clothes that _I_ like, not this gray and black junk that is apparently cool, but I've always secretly hated because it's so boring. And fun, interesting, cool stuff that _I've_ always wanted to own. Like a laptop, for one. Or at least a computer that takes less than four hours to boot up. But hey, if you see anything you like, feel free to take it. It'll just go to kids just like me, who are too poor to buy the 'cool' stuff, but want to be popular anyway, so they buy this crap at discount stores and just don't tell anyone it's second-hand."

"well, I have always wanted a portable game-station," Lynn says, ripping the gameboy from my hands and looking at it adoringly before turning her begging eyes on me.

I laugh and shrug.

"consider it yours. Here, have all these stupid games I never got around to playing as well," I say, throwing her at least 200 dollars' worth of games for that thing.

Her eyes go big and she smiles widely.

"well, I also saw a shirt that was pretty cool just now," she says, looking at the garbage bags littering my room with whole new eyes.

I laugh again.

"go ahead. The blue bag and everything – however little it is – left in my closet and cabinets are mine, but other than that, have fun with it. Take all of it, for all I care. I just want it out of my room and out of my life. No more changing myself to fit what other people think is acceptable. From today onwards I'm just going to be 'Leila', the girl I was always meant to be," I say dramatically.

Lynn is only half listening, spending the other half of her focus on the bags she's now emptying on the floor, picking out clothes and gadgets she wants.

"you don't have a lot of money, do you?" I ask when I see her picking out a simple white shirt.

Sure, it's from some expensive brand, but still...it's a plain white shirt.

"not really. My mom is raising me by herself and although my dad sends us money every now and then for my school and stuff, it's never really enough to take care of both of us, you know? And as a simple cleaning-lady, my mom doesn't have the most amazing salary," she says and she shrugs as if it's no big deal, but I can see the joy in her eyes as she picks out one shirt or skirt after another, gathering enough so that her mom won't have to spend their precious money on clothes for her for at least a year or so.

"you know, you can just take it all and sell the stuff you don't need, if you want. This is not charity, mind you, I was going to throw it out anyway," I say. "I only need that blue bag and I'm going to sell that as well. If we go together, between the two of us, I bet we can make enough money to buy a whole new wardrobe for me, a nice gift for your mom, and ice-cream for you and me both."

"two scoops?" Lynn asks childishly and I laugh.

"maybe even _three,_ " I say, making her laugh as well as she gets up to help me sort out the rest of my stuff, gathering it on four piles: one pile of stuff I want to sell, one pile of stuff Lynn wants to sell, one pile of stuff Lynn wants to keep and one pile of stuff I want to keep.

...

"what the hell am I going to do with this much money?" Lynn asks me, the look on her face suggesting she's actually looking for an answer.

"I mean, this was all your stuff, so I guess..." she says, trying to hand me the money, but I just laugh.

"not gonna happen, Gwenny dearest. I gave you that stuff knowing how much money it would bring you, should you sell it," I say.

"Gwenny dearest?" she just mumbles and I laugh again.

I've been laughing more these last three days with Lynn than I have in my entire life before this, the fifteen year long one _or_ the twenty-two year long one.

"besides, have you seen _this_?" I ask, showing her the money in my hands, easily twice as much as what she's carrying. "I didn't realize exactly how much money I've been wasting on 'being cool'. But look at this! I can buy ten times what I've just sold, without the brand-names, and still have enough money for that ice-cream."

"yeah, but you still need to buy all these new clothes and stuff. I already have a complete new wardrobe and a bunch of other stuff, _with_ the brand-names," Lynn says, shoving the money into her wallet.

"so? We can go shopping and you can buy some more stuff if you see anything you like, we can buy a nice present for your mother and then you can just give the rest to her for food, bills and trips to the doctor and stuff," I say, shrugging.

"this might sound very _gold-digger-ish_ , but I am _so_ glad I decided to come talk to you after you told Peter where he could shove it," she says, sighing happily.

"yeah, you and me both. Seriously, I've really upgraded, as far as friends go," I say and she laughs.

"well, that's not much of a compliment, really. My only competition was _Cindy,_ the crazy stalker-girl," she says and I shrug.

"not really, I did have a real friend before Cindy, called Sandra, but even she couldn't hold a candle to you," I admit, making her smile.

"well, good. Guess we're going to be great friends after all, just like I predicted," she says, sighing dramatically. "you know, sometimes it's just creepy how often I'm right about stuff like that. I'm probably psychic."

...

"what the hell happened to you?" someone asks, sounding horrified, the very second I walk into the school the next Monday.

I'm wearing the kind of thing I've always wanted to wear, but I was always too shy to.

Bright red high tops; striped knee-high socks – red, blue and yellow; a short skirt – black leather, ripped in places to show the bright blue, red and green underneath; a pretty belt – a silver chain, a gold chain and a blue, a red and a violet ribbon intertwined; a black T-shirt – ripped like my skirt to show the red and blue underneath; striped arm warmers – the same colors as my socks; and a wine-red choker with a silver pendant of a grapevine and a strand of poison ivy intertwined around a thyrsus.

" _awesome!_ " Lynn yells when she sees me. "the bright colors, the thyrsus, it's total _madness_."

She claps her hands happily, jumping up and down.

"I want to steal that choker," she sighs, running her fingers over the pendant.

"you cannot," I say, slapping her hand away. "it cost me an arm and a leg. I bought it in some back-alley store that sold all kinds of stuff that probably isn't all 100% legal. But it was _so_ worth it."

Lynn nods, smiling widely.

"that look would make Dionysus himself _sick_ with envy," she says.

"that's the point," I say, winking conspiratorially, making her laugh. "but seriously, I've wanted to dress up like this since I was a little girl, but it just wasn't 'cool' enough. But now that I no longer care about being cool, I see no reason why I shouldn't let all my crazy come out into the light."

"man, I wish I could be more like you. Well, I wouldn't walk around like _that_ , exactly. I would just _die._ But you, you're so...you!" she yells. "I want to be me."

"well, what's keeping you? Let your crazy out," I say.

"maybe I will," she says, sighing again and turning to go find her locker with one last longing look at my choker.

...

"you're coming with me and that's final!" Lynn says firmly, sitting down next to me in the lunchroom.

"uh..." I say, looking at her questioningly.

"oh! Duh. I haven't actually told you about it yet. I just practiced this conversation in my head so many times and in it you always refused, so I somehow convinced myself you actually had already refused," she says, as if that makes perfect sense, which it really doesn't.

"there's this meeting that my mom wants me to attend. Some boring old-people stuff. We're into Hellenism, my mom and I. Usually, it's pretty cool. I mean, I get to learn all the old myths and stuff. Fun, right? Yeah, except every now and then my mom drags me into these meetings where a bunch of old people talk about 'the ancient Greek mythology in regards to modern-day society and religions' or whatever they call it. Boring! So...I asked my mom if I could bring a friend this time and she said yes, so you're going, end of discussion. Glad we had this talk," she says, nodding as if it had already been decided and pulling her lunch out of her bag, apparently serious about this 'discussion' being over.

"uh..." I just say again and she sighs annoyedly, obviously not happy I want to re-open this conversation.

"I won't take no for an answer," she says.

"I wasn't going to say 'no' perse, but I'm gonna need a little more information. When is it? Where is it? How am I getting there? Are we going to be gone for more than one day? And if yes, what do I need to pack? When will we be back?" I ask, throwing my hands up in a helpless gesture.

"oh. Well, we'll be gone for one week, exactly. It's the first week of the coming vacation that starts four days from now. It's in Greece, obviously, but don't worry," she says.

 _Obviously?_

"everyone there speaks English, because there are people from all over the world coming, so they decided on just using one central language, so everyone can understand each other. You're traveling with me and my mom, duh. She already bought an extra plane-ticket so you can come and she rented a hotel room for herself and one for the two of us. She paid for it with the money you 'gave' me, so she doesn't really mind the extra cost. And you need to pack...whatever you would usually pack for a one-week vacation in Greece. The meetings are only the first day, the third day and the sixth day. The other days are a real vacation," she continues, talking as if I should somehow already know all this, as if it's obvious, common knowledge and I'm weird for not knowing this.

...

"ugh, I hate student-teacher conferences," Lynn says, looking at her watch for the millionth time, waiting for the time our parents will arrive.

"I don't particularly care," I say, shrugging.

" _how_ did you get that?" Lynn asks, finally noticing my new pendant – I just used the same wine-colored choker, but replaced the pendant.

"what, this old thing?" I say sarcastically. "I figured if you're going to drag me to a meeting about Hellenism, I might as well dress for the part. So I went back to that back-alley store and it turned out they had a whole collection of these crazy pendants, so I used up all the money I had left from our 'shopping-trip' to buy as many of them as I could afford. I have this one..." A golden bull-pendant. "...a crystal wineglass-pendant with silver decorations; an emerald serpent – now that one was _seriously_ expensive. Luckily, it was probably stolen, so I managed to convince the salesman to sell it to me for half price, but even then it was ridiculously expensive, but it's _so pretty_ ; another one with a poison ivy strand and a grapevine intertwined, but without the thyrsus; a pretty silver fig branch and one just a simple golden pine cone," I say, counting of fingers as I'm talking.

"correct me if I'm wrong, but your favorite Olympian is...Dionysus," Lynn says and I laugh.

"is it very obvious? I tried to be subtle about it," I say sarcastically.

"but I'm a nice person, so I'll give you this," I say, giving her a small blue box.

She opens it excitedly, letting out a very high-pitched screech that hurts my ears when she sees the thin gold chain in it.

She hasn't even seen the pendant yet.

Guess she's never owned a gold necklace before.

"it's a lightning bolt," she says, laughing.

"it was that or a rose. And while I understand that the rose is Aphrodite's favorite flower, there are just too many 'normal' necklaces with a rose-pendant," I say, shrugging. "apparently, the shady salesman also preferred Dionysus, because he had all these awesome Dionysus-pendants, but only _one_ pendant for Zeus and one for Aphrodite and _none_ for the others and... _oomph,_ " I say, sucking in a quick breath when Lynn finally releases me from the choke-hold she had me in, probably trying to give me a hug.

"thank you, thank you, thank you," she chants, putting the necklace on and smiling widely as she runs her fingers over the small golden lightning bolt.

...

"how was it?" Lynn asks worriedly as I flop down on the chair next to the one she's sitting on.

"it was...ugh," I say, having no other way to describe it.

"he said 'we're worried about your daughter's mental health. Since this thing with Cindy came out, she's been dressing oddly and acting unpredictably, that's not to say 'crazy' _._ I can suggest a few good psychologists to you that you can take her to. She obviously misses some kind of closure in this, so she acts out as a cry for help'," I say, causing Lynn to fall into fits of hysteric laughter.

"it's not that funny. He said all that while I was sitting _right there._ And _then_ he asks me to wait in the hallway because he wants to speak privately to my parents for a bit, so whatever he's telling them now is even _worse_ ," I say, sighing deeply. "seriously, show your true nature and people immediately think you need a shrink or something."

Lynn just keeps laughing until I stomp on her toes.

"look, you know your clothes are pretty insane," she says, sounding perfectly reasonable, as if she's talking to a stubborn child. "and you _have_ been acting unpredictably. Walking out of class halfway into the lesson because 'you're bored' and drinking wine in public..."

"it's non-alcoholic!" I yell.

Lynn puts up her hands in surrender.

"I know. I also know that, apparently, the 'real you' is a dead ringer for Dionysus, personality-wise. Which is probably the reason why he's your favorite Olympian. But he's also the god of alcohol, drugs and insanity, so if you act like him, it's no more than normal that people are going to be a bit worried," she says.

"I don't know. It's not like I'm purposely acting like him, you know. I just love the taste of wine, even non-alcoholic wine, and as for getting bored halfway through class...well, those classes really _are_ boring. I already know all this stuff. Just let me do the exam and be done with this crap," I sigh.

"I know you're not acting like Dionysus. You're acting like you. But, like I said, personality-wise, you're a dead ringer for Dionysus. At least, for Dionysus as he's depicted in the stories," Lynn says. "but, like I also said, drinking wine – even non-alcoholic wine – in public, dressing in ten-thousand colors, walking out of class because 'you already know all this', when before you could barely get a passing grade,... People are bound to get worried, if only because this change is so sudden. People fear what they don't understand, remember? And _no-one_ understands you, not even me."

"I know," I say, sighing again. "still..."

Then the door opens and my mom walks out with a worried look in her eyes, making me sigh _again._


	5. Maniac and Dahlia

**A/N:** Finally Leila meets the first (but not the last) gods, though she doesn't know it yet. Can you guess who they are?

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, sadly.

* * *

 **5. Maniac and Dahlia**

"I don't know. Maybe..." my mom says, looking doubtfully at the bags I'm stacking by the door.

"mom, I'm leaving _today_. If you wanted to object, you should've done so four days ago, when I told you about this trip," I say. "besides, I already told you: the wine was non-alcoholic and I just like these clothes. I dressed inconspicuously because the last thing I wanted was for Cindy to be able to follow me _more_ easily. But now I don't have to worry about her anymore, so I dress like myself again."

Okay, so maybe I lied about the reason I now suddenly dress like this, but somehow I didn't think 'I traveled back through time because I threw a medal into a magic fountain and now I'm stuck here, so I figured I might as well make the best of it' would convince her about how _not_ crazy I am.

"alright. Have fun, dear," my mom says, hugging me and helping me put the bags into the car of Lynn's mother, who is already parked on our driveway.

"it's not fair. How come _she_ gets to go to _Greece_ with her friend for a whole week and I'm stuck here all vacation with you guys?" Moon – actually called Luna – my older sister, complains.

"because you don't have a friend willing to put up with you for a whole week," I say before running out the door, ducking whatever it is she decided to throw at me. As I hear something shattering behind me, I realize she just threw one of the crystal statues standing on a shelf near the door. Her _own_ crystal statues. Ha!

"let's go!" Lynn yells happily, still wearing the lightning bolt I gave her the day before yesterday. I don't think she's taken it off once, even to shower.

"hello, I'm Leila," I say politely, shaking the hand of Lynn's mother.

"oh, this might be the first time I've met you, but I know exactly who you are," the lady says, smiling kindly. "the girl of a thousand colors, the one who gave my daughter that necklace. You're all I've heard about in this last week."

Lynn just shrugs, not embarrassed at all.

...

"Lynn begged me on her bare knees to let you come on this trip," Carolyn, Lynn's mother, says. "I did not," Lynn mumbles, but Caro just ignores her and keeps talking. "she's always hated these trips. Her father pays for them, you know. She loves Greece and everything to do with the gods, but she hates those 'old bastards', like her father and his friends."

"her father is coming too?" I ask, looking at Lynn through the mirror.

She just shrugs. "my mom met my dad on one of these trips, sleeping with him once and ending up with me," she says.

"some souvenir," I say, making both Lynn and Caro laugh.

"we weren't in love, Jove and me. We were both lonely, so we spent the night together. He wants to be involved in Lynn's life, but it's a bit hard with her living halfway across the world," Caro explains. "so he just spoils her rotten whenever she comes on these trips with me and he sends us monthly checks so I can pay for her school and anything else she might need. Problem is, Jove has made a habit out of getting women pregnant and leaving them with the child, so he has to write out _a lot_ of checks every month. And with every new baby, the checks each get smaller."

Oddly, Caro doesn't sound bitter or angry about this. She just tells the story matter-of-factly, as if she's telling someone else's story.

"so anyway, Lynn hates these trips. She says they're boring and annoying. This year, however, she seemed almost excited about it, because she finally found someone who's able to handle her overbearing attitude that can come with us."

Lynn grumbles something from the backseat, but I can't understand exactly what. It's probably something insulting.

...

"okay, so what's the craziest thing you've ever done in your life?" Lynn asks as we sit on the plane.

It's a ten-hour trip, so we've got plenty of time to talk about stupid things like this.

"in real life? You wouldn't believe me," I say honestly.

"you'd be surprised by the crazy things we tend to believe. We're into Hellenism, that should say enough," Caro says and I sigh.

"alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. The craziest thing I ever did was travel through time," I say, completely honest. Mostly because I'm 99% sure they really won't believe me after all.

"travel through time?" Lynn asks, sounding confused, but for some reason not disbelieving. I nod.

"yeah, some hobo traded me a medal with a picture of Chronos, the god of time or something, for half a sandwich. Later, my class went to this magic wishing fountain. I threw the medal in and wished I could go back in time. I didn't intent to _actually_ go back and redo it all, I just wanted a chance to talk to my younger self, warn myself about Cindy and Peter and stuff like that. Instead, a couple days later my mom suddenly decides to go back to the town where we used to live, to 'relive old memories' as she herself called it. Well, I'm sure _reliving_ my memories, but somehow, I don't think _this_ is what she had in mind exactly," I say, still being completely honest.

If they do believe me, awesome. If they don't, well...whatever.

"I was visiting my old school, standing at my old locker, when I suddenly felt dizzy. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the sickroom, with miss Harolds telling me she's going to have Cindy walk me home, because she didn't trust me to walk home alone after I'd just fainted for the millionth time _this year_. My family lived in my old home again, Cindy was still stalking me, Peter hadn't made a move for me yet,...Basically, I got exactly what I wished for: the chance to fix all my mistakes in the past and possibly work out a better future for myself. So yeah, that is _by far_ the craziest thing I've ever done. I mean, dressing funny and drinking wine in school is pretty crazy, but it's not 'throwing a medal into a fountain and traveling back through time because of it'-crazy."

"wow..." Lynn says. "the craziest thing I've ever done was throw a can of paint at a Christian priest...forgetting to open the can first."

Of course that makes me laugh.

"man, I wish I could've seen that," I say.

"yeah...maybe you should be a bit more careful with those wishes of yours, considering the last one threw you back some years into the past," Caro says, actually sounding a bit worried, making me laugh again.

"true, but that wish-making included an antique medal and a magic fountain. I'm pretty sure the wishes I make randomly on a plane won't actually come true," I say.

...

"I wonder who that hobo was," Lynn says after a few minutes of silence.

"huh?" I ask.

"you said a hobo traded you that medal for half a sandwich. Usually a homeless person wouldn't trade a priceless medal, which he can probably sell for thousands of dollars or use to make a wish himself, for _half a sandwich_ ," she says.

"yeah, I figured that myself. He absolutely _insisted_ I take the medal, even after I told him what I thought it might've been worth. And what's even weirder, after I made the wish and everything happened, I brought in the mail and found an envelope. No name, no address, just a blank envelope with that very medal in it," I say.

"look, I have it right here." I pull out my wallet and take out the medal, which I'd tucked in there for safe-keeping.

"yeah, that's Chronos alright," Caro says after taking the medal from me, looking at it for a second and giving it back.

I tuck it back into my wallet and put my wallet back into my bag.

"so I guess that is your ticket back to your own time, should you wish to go back."

I shrug.

"why would I? In my own time I have an intensely monogamous relationship with my laptop, no job, no friends, no diplomas and no hope for a real life. Here, I have my entire life ahead of me. I can do whatever I want. Fix myself a _real_ future. Graduate, go to college, make real friends, get decent boyfriends – not like that idiot Peter – and pretty much do everything all over again, only with all this new knowledge that can only come from screwing everything up once already. Whenever I have a decision to make, I just think back on when I made that exact same decision earlier. If I didn't like the results then, I can just change my path _this_ time," I say.

"yeah, but since you're changing everything now, you might not face _the same_ decisions this time 'round," Caro says and Lynn nods.

"in your previous life, where you and I friends?" she asks and I shake my head.

"so I'm guessing this entire trip is new to you, right?" she asks and I nod.

"so every single decision you'll have to make on this trip is completely new to you, meaning you might just make all the wrong decisions again." I shake my head.

"no, because this time 'round I have you to help me make those decisions. In my previous life I only had Cindy and Peter to 'help' and they themselves were the worst decisions I ever made. I'm going to Greece with this awesome girl and her oddly cool mother. Last time this in itself would've been _way_ out of my reach. If I hadn't told someone about Cindy, we wouldn't all have been in the lunchroom during class-hours. If you hadn't been in the lunchroom at that time, you wouldn't have heard me tell off Peter – something I didn't even do _at all_ last time – and you wouldn't have come to talk to me. So sure, I might have new decisions on this trip and later on, decisions I don't know the results of beforehand, but I'll have the decision between _good and bad_ , rather than between _bad and worse_ , like before. If that makes sense," I say.

"besides, my 'past future' was mostly dominated by fear, loneliness and a complete lack of self-worth. My fear, mostly fear of socializing, was caused by the idea that every single person coming to talk to me might become another Cindy. My loneliness was caused by my inability to communicate with other people and my eventual fear of the outside world in its entirety, because 'out there' there were people like Cindy and Peter. And my complete lack of self-worth was caused by my dropping out of school in the third grade of high-school, directly caused by my fear of Cindy, and my relationship with Peter, where he constantly reminded me that I had less worth than a speck of dust in his opinion. So by taking both Cindy _and_ Peter out of the equation, I pretty much changed my future _completely._ So now, it's like I have a complete new life to live, where I can make my own choices again, not hindered by my past mistakes. _And,_ if even that weren't enough, I now have the wisdom, strength and knowledge of twenty-two years of life to aid me in the decision-making in my current fifteen-and-counting years of life, something I also didn't have last time 'round. As a twenty-two year-old you live by completely different values. As a fifteen year-old, you might think spending time with friends and getting good grades are the most important things you can do, but as a twenty-two year-old, you learn to value saving money and considering and re-considering every single option _before_ making any big decisions. So put my current fifteen year-old life and emotions together with my previous twenty-two year-old experience and strength and I have a _much_ better chance of succeeding in life this time."

...

"yeah, I guess, especially the strength-part," Cora says. "if you've lived almost nine years in fear and loneliness, you become pretty strong emotionally. You'd have to, otherwise you would've killed yourself several times over already. As a fifteen year-old you don't have that resilience, so you're more easily affected by small things. I guess this time, if you, say, find a boyfriend and he breaks your heart, you'll get over it much faster and more easily than a normal fifteen year-old. That way you won't be distracted by your heartbreak if you happen to come across any big decisions to make right after the break-up and you'll be able to consider the path you're about to take more carefully and effectively."

"so, I guess you'll be staying then. Indefinitely. With us," Lynn says, looking hopeful and I laugh.

"even if I decided to make my wish, I'd still be here. I'd just be my old self, but made new by the decisions I made in my time here," I say. "I'd still be your crazy friend, dressing in a thousand colors and drinking wine in school."

"maybe, but you wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be the strong, carefully hopeful girl that's sitting next to me right now. You'd be the fifteen year-old you, the one that doesn't remember her 'old future life'." I laugh and shrug.

"maybe, but you don't have to worry about that just yet. At this moment I have absolutely no intention of using that medal to get back to my miserable past life. I'm enjoying this life too much," I say and she smiles.

"but still, I wonder who that hobo was. Was it Zeus? Chronos himself? Maybe even Apollo? He's the one that deals with fate and prophecies and stuff, so it might've been him. Artemis is in charge of young girls, so it wouldn't be _that_ unreasonable to think it might've been her. Athena, goddess of wisdom, also a possibility. Or Dionysus, simply because he likes you so much, because you're so much like him, decided to grant you this wish. Hades is in charge of life and rebirth. Hera is the goddess of women," Lynn says, counting off fingers as she talks.

"so, basically, you think it might be...pretty much anyone," I say. "well, that narrows it down."

...

"I don't think it was Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena or Artemis. This is just not their usual MO. Chronos himself doesn't come out of Olympus all that much and as a titan he's expressively forbidden from interfering with human lives directly," Cora says.

"so it was either Dionysus or Apollo then?" I ask and she nods.

"so the real question is: are you here because it's your fate to be here, or are you here because you just really wanted to be here? Apollo would've given you that medal if it was needed for you to fulfill your destiny, but Dionysus, if he decided he likes you, would just have given you that medal because he thought it would make you happy," she says.

"true, but according to the legends _nothing_ can go against fate. Everything that happens is because it was fated to happen. So my being here might've been because I really wanted to be here, causing Dionysus to give me that medal, leading me to make that wish and going back in time, thereby making my return to this time part of my fate, which means it could've also have been Apollo who gave me that medal in the first place after all," I say.

"I'm getting dizzy," Lynn says childishly, making me laugh.

"yeah, none of this makes a lot of sense, so I've decided to just pretend it all never happened. I'm here now and I have no intention of going back, so I might as well forget about the past – future – and just enjoy my life as it comes from now on. Of course, if I happen to come across something I remember from my future – wow, that sounds odd – I'm going to use my knowledge to my full advantage, but that really isn't any different from if I was, say, a psychic or something," I say.

"hmm, yeah. But...if it was Dionysus, how would he have known you would throw that medal into the fountain and wish to go back in time, which was pretty much the _only_ way for you to use that medal to your advantage? Apollo would've known, since he can read your fate," Cora says, obviously not yet willing to let this mystery go.

"yeah, and he might've told his baby-brother...Dionysus," Lynn says. "or maybe Dionysus wanted to make this crazy human that is so similar to him on the inside happy, so he asked Apollo for the best way to do that."

"I'm going to take a nap," I say, turning on my mp3-player and blocking out the conversation so I may get some rest. This all is making my head spin and not in a good way.

...

"oh, my goodness. Are you still going on about that?" I ask when the plane lands and I take off my headphones, greeted at once by Lynn and Cora discussing which god gave me that medal.

"I need to go change," I mumble when they both completely ignore me and keep throwing crazy ideas back and forth.

Apparently some of the other gods are back in the race, as Lynn has somehow convinced herself it was actually Zeus and Cora suggest it might've been Hades after all.

I take my bag into the tiny bathroom, changing my clothes at record-speed.

Even though we've already landed, I'm still supposed to be in my seat. It's apparently dangerous to be standing up while the plane is taxiing.

Coming out of the bathroom I see myself in a reflecting window and I smile widely.

If Lynn likes my other outfits, she's going to absolutely _love_ this one.

Knee-high wine-red latex four inch heels – slutty, yes, but _so_ pretty; a short skirt, as usual – wine-red leather, my go-to fabric for skirts, this one also ripped to reveal the pretty purple, white and green underneath; a belt that looks like a grapevine curled around my waist three times – complete with small purple, red and green bunches of grapes; bracelets that have all my pendants hanging off them – except for the one I'm wearing on my choker, of course; a T-shirt that looks like it's been made entirely of poison ivy – actually made of silk and polyester, with so many holes and gaps in it it's down-right skanky; gloves the same wine-red as my shoes – also made of latex, reaching up to just below my elbows; my usual wine-red choker – this time with the intertwined silver grapevine and golden poison ivy strand, without the thyrsus; and my hair pulled up, adorned with poison ivy – well, the same polyester and silk my shirt is made of, but it _looks_ like poison ivy. The real stuff would leave me with a terrible rash and no amount of awesome would be worth _that._

For meeting a bunch of old men obsessed with the gods of Olympus, including Dionysus, this outfit is absolute perfection.

...

"damn!" Lynn yells as I walk back to the seat and sit down with a proud smile on my face.

"I wish I could pull off a crazy outfit like that," she says, obviously sick with envy.

I just smile even wider and pull out one of the adorably small wine-bottles my mom bought me for the trip, so I wouldn't have to carry a big bottle and a wine glass with me everywhere.

Non-alcoholic, of course, but tasty nonetheless.

Even the bottles fit my outfit. They're just small bottles of wine, but there are dark green, with red wine inside and with carvings in the glass in the shape of grapevines. Flawless.

Lynn sighs deeply, obviously even more envious now.

I have to admit, it's flattering that I can elicit that response in someone as pretty as Lynn.

"well, Lynn told me you seem to resemble Dionysus in personality, and sometimes in looks, but I sure wasn't expecting this," Cora says, obviously also impressed, if not as envious as Lynn.

"those old coots won't know whether to worship you or _drink_ you," Lynn says, making me laugh.

"I should hope they're not tempted to drink something covered in poison ivy. That will not end well for them," I say.

"you're in luck. You get to show off that outfit right off the bat. I've just received a message from Jove. He says Manikos and Dolios will be picking us up from the airport. Manikos is obsessed with everything wine- and Dionysus-related, so he'll adore you," Cora says, looking at her phone.

"I can't wait to meet this Maniac-person. He sounds like great fun," I say.

"Manikos," Lynn says, laughing.

"yeah, Maniac," I say as if I have no idea what her problem is.

"Ma-ni-kos," she says.

"Ma-ni-ac," I say in the exact same tone, making her laugh again.

"fine, call him Maniac, see if I care," she says.

...

"you must be Maniac," I say – making Lynn laugh behind me – looking at the old man with a wineglass in his hand.

In the middle of the airport. Nice.

I toast him with my tiny bottle and he smiles.

"it's actually Manikos," he says, toasting as well.

"yeah, that's what I said. Maniac. Manikos is derived from manic, meaning insane. Manikos, manic, insane, insane person, Maniac," I say, shrugging.

"I can't really argue with that logic," he says, also shrugging. " _loving_ the outfit, by the way."

I smile widely and do a fashion-spin.

"made it myself," I say, childishly proud. "well, mostly. I didn't make the shoes. Or the gloves. Or the bracelets. Or the choker. Or the wine-bottle. Or the wine itself. Or the belt. Or the underwear. Actually, I just made the shirt. From pre-existing materials."

Maniac laughs cheerfully and toasts me again before emptying his glass in one gulp.

"the shirt is my favorite part of it," he says in a conspiratorial tone, making me laugh as well.

"I have decided you are as of now my favorite 'boring old person'," I say, perfectly serious, making everyone laugh.

"so who is your favorite 'non-boring old person'?" he asks, holding his glass under my bottle, silently demanding I refill it for him. How arrogant. _Seriously_ nice.

I tip the bottle, empty it into the glass and pull another bottle from my bag.

"Chronos," I say, shrugging.

"the titan god of time?" the other old man asks – I think his name was Dahlia or something – sounding surprised and confused.

"that would be the one," I say, emptying this bottle into Maniac's glass as well – it's a big glass – and grabbing _another_ bottle, this one just for me.

Maniac nods his appreciation and just looks at me questioningly, same as Dahlia.

"what? My favorite 'non-boring old person' can't be a god? Who in Hades came up with _that_ rule?"

Ha! I said 'who in Hades?'. Lynn says that all the time and I guess I copied it unconsciously.

"well, no-one says it can't be a god perse, but why Chronos?" Dahlia asks.

"because I owe the big guy a _huge_ favor," I admit. "well, him and some other guy, but the other guy was in disguise and Lynn, Caro and I can't really figure out who that guy was. So until I know who he was, I'm stuck owing a favor to only Chronos, making him my favorite 'non-boring old guy'."

...

"what about Dionysus?" Maniac asks. "you look like you're one of his biggest fans."

I laugh and Lynn smiles.

"not really. I mean, sure, he's cool and all. And he _did_ invent wine and _man_ , I probably wouldn't be half as happy as I am today if wine had never been invented, but I'm not 'a fan' perse. These clothes, I wear them because I like them. And I act like him, just because I do. I didn't even realize the connection between me and him until Lynn pointed out that I'm pretty much a carbon copy of the guy, personality- and fashion-wise," I admit.

"I guess if you drink as much wine as you do, it becomes a part of you somehow," Lynn says dramatically as I empty the bottle and immediately pull out another one.

"it's non-alcoholic!" I yell, exasperated.

"really?" Maniac says, looking at his glass as if I filled it with poison instead of wine.

"yeah, I'm only fifteen years old, more or less, so I'm not allowed to drink the good stuff yet...or not anymore, for a while. Whatever, I'm getting dizzy," I say, obviously confusing Maniac and Dahlia.

"don't ask, it's a _really_ long story. Like, seriously. About seven years long. And really, really, really boring," I say, shaking my head.

"don't take this the wrong way, but you seem to be somewhat..." Dahlia says, obviously looking for the least insulting word to use to describe me.

"Annoying? Ridiculous? Completely and utterly insane?" I ask.

"confusing? Obnoxious? All of the above?" Lynn adds helpfully and we both look at Dahlia, blinking innocently.

He looks really uncomfortable right now and we both laugh.

"yeah, I know. I've had a pretty weird life. Add that to my apparently being a carbon copy of the god of insanity and _this_ is what you get," I say, making a gesture at myself.

...

"I would very much like to hear about your 'weird life' and the debt you claim to owe to Chronos," Maniac says and I smile.

"I don't owe a debt, I owe a favor. There is a huge difference. If I, at some point in time, promised him I'd do something for him, I'd owe him a debt. If he did something for me, expecting to gain something from me in return, I'd owe him a debt. If he did something for me without ever expecting or asking for anything in return, I owe him a favor," I say. "but really, it's a crazy, stupid story you probably wouldn't care about at all."

Maniac shrugs, staring at his glass, sighing and finally deciding non-alcoholic wine is still better than no wine at all and he takes a sip.

"I would still like to hear about it," he says. I sigh, trying to decide how much of the story I can tell him.

"well, there was this one girl. I only got rid of her a few days ago, actually. Her name is Cindy..."


	6. The guessing game

**A/N:** Sorry, this chapter is mostly just filler. I was having some writersblock when I wrote this.

 **Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing

* * *

 **6. The guessing-game**

"so this Peter kid thought he could control you?" Maniac asks, refilling my wineglass with _real wine_ , the kind that has alcohol in it. He promised not to tell my mom about it.

I nod.

"yeah, because I was vulnerable, after what had just happened to me, all that stuff with Cindy. At least, that's what he thought. Little did he know that stuff with Cindy just strengthened my resolve to _never_ be anyone's victim again," I say.

"but how did you know he was trying to turn you into a victim? From the way you tell it, you snapped at him for just asking if it was true," Dahlia asks and I shrug.

"yeah, but I _knew._ I knew exactly what kind of guy he was and what he was planning. I knew how I would end up if I went along with it, so I chased him away."

"but how did you know?" he asks and I sigh, throwing my hands up in a helpless gesture.

"I heard it through the freaking grapevine, alright?" I ask, exasperatedly, and then I chuckle. "ha! The grapevine. I'm just so damn funny sometimes."

"you sure get interesting when you've had real alcohol," Lynn says.

She's right. I've been making stupid puns like that for two hours now.

Maniac cracks up at almost every one of them – or maybe he's just amused because I seem to be getting drunk and I'm acting stupider and stupider with each time he refills my glass – but the others by now just sigh and shake their head when I tell yet _another_ utterly unfunny joke or lame pun.

"but seriously, Leila. You can tell them the whole story. They're just like me and my mom. They'll believe you," Lynn says and I sigh.

"Gwenny dearest, even my _own mother_ wouldn't have believed me if I'd told her, so why would these complete strangers be any different? They don't know me from Adam. They don't know if I'm prone to lying to make myself seem more interesting, or if I'm delusional or something," I say.

"you're not. I know you're telling the truth and if you tell them and give them the chance to make up their _own_ minds about this, I'm sure they'll know it too," she says.

...

"Gwen, Gwenny, Gwendolyn, darling, listen. I've had..." I say, counting off my fingers and then just staring at them for a while when I run out of fingers to count off before starting to talk again as if I didn't just stop mid-sentence out of nowhere.

"...well over ten glasses of wine. And that is no normal wine, I tell you. I don't usually start telling lame jokes this early on in the drinking-game. I am not going to be able to, you know, think, until at least 6AM in the morning, when the _only_ thing I'll be thinking is 'where is the toilet?'. So stop trying to be all smart and stuff, it's wasted on me right now, okay?" I ask, clapping my hands and smiling sweetly at her, making Maniac fall off his chair because he's laughing so hard and even the boring Dahlia smiles at my intoxicated state.

"Leila, did you forget you're only fifteen right now? Your body is not as used to alcohol as it used to be, or is going to be. Besides, you probably weight at least 20 pounds less than the last time you've played 'the drinking-game'," Lynn says. "so it's probably not the wine."

"no, whatever all that stuff you just said means, she's actually right. It's the wine. Normal wine has about 12-15% alcohol in it, with 20% as the absolute maximum. This stuff had 37%. As far as the alcohol percentage goes, this stuff it closer to vodka than it is to regular wine," Jove says.

He's Lynn's father who met up with us as we arrived here and has been following Lynn around as she was following me around as I was following Maniac around as he was following Dahlia around.

Lots of 'people following other people around' going on here.

"yeah, listen to mister Javelin. He knows what he's talking about," I say, making Lynn smile.

"it's Jove," Jove says, but I ignore him.

I call Jove Javelin, Dolios Dahlia,... And those are just the ones I get _almost_ right. There's a guy here that I call Parakeet, but I can't for the love of me remember how I managed to make that link, considering his real name is Anthony.

"you do know that 'mister Javelin' is my dad, right?" Lynn asks and I sigh.

"Gwenny dearest, mister Javelin is 'dad' to half the kids in the country. I'm not even going to bother to try to remember which of the bastards walking around this earth are his and I'll just pretend they are _all_ his. I'll probably be right more than half the time anyway," I say, making a few people suck in a surprised breath, sure Jove is going to be angry with me, but he just laughs.

Maniac is now laughing so hard he's sucking in quick breaths as he laughs so the lack of oxygen to his brain won't make him pass out.

...

"hey, Maniac. My glass is empty," I say, managing to sound surprised, even though I gulped down the last of the wine in it myself mere seconds ago.

Maniac manages to stop laughing long enough to sit back up into his chair and refill my glass, apparently intent on finding out exactly _how_ drunk he can get me before I pass out.

"seriously, you should probably stop refilling her glass now," Lynn says impatiently.

"I totally agree. You should be refilling _her_ glass instead. She's _boring_ when she's sober," I say, making Lynn glare at me with an insulted look on her face and making Maniac laugh again.

"so, are you ready to tell me about the favor you owe Chronos yet?" Maniac asks after secretly convincing Jove to distract Lynn just long enough for him to refill her glass with more wine, hoping she won't notice and just keeps drinking.

"darling, sweetie, crazy person...I'll be ready to rip off all my clothes and dance the polka right on this table before I'm ready to tell you about that," I say, patting shoulder comfortingly and shaking my head.

"I actually kind of want to see that," Jove admits with a small smile.

"more?" Maniac asks when he sees my glass is almost empty again.

"do I _look_ unconscious to you, wine-guy?" I just ask, making him laugh _again_ as he refills my glass.

Starting to feel a bit woozy, I decide to slow down the drinking a bit, so I can keep talking to these weird people.

Lynn said they'd be boring and stuffy, but Maniac is actually really fun and interesting and Jove is really fun to tease.

"hey, Leila?" Lynn asks, sounding serious all of a sudden. I try to match her mood, but I've had at least four whole liters of wine so far and I'm _still_ going strong on the drinking, so it's a bit hard.

Still, I manage to nod, at least somewhat serious.

"who is your dad?" she asks.

"don't have one," I answer instantly. "my mom used to be a prostitute, so I was probably born from one of her clients."

Damn, I forgot about the alcohol affecting my ability to keep private things to myself.

Well, whatever, I've already started the story, might as well finish it.

"she keeps saying one of us was born from 'a night of passion' rather than being born from 'a night of work', but she won't say which one. It might be me, in which case my dad was some hot guy she met at a bar this one night. But it's probably not, so I've got about sixteen potentials, none of which are interested in being a real 'dad' to me. Really, since I'm a bastard, it wouldn't surprise me if we were sisters," I say, making Jove smile.

"I don't visit prostitutes," he says. "plenty of women out there willing to pleasure me for free. You would be more likely to be mine if you _were_ the one born from 'a night of passion'."

"well, whatever. I don't know who my dad is and even if I did, I wouldn't care. He never bothered to take the time to send so much as a single postcard, so why should I spend any of _my_ time thinking about him?" I ask, shrugging again and gulping down my wine, even though I'd told myself to slow down.

...

"gotta pee, gotta pee," I mumble, almost running over someone as I'm rushing to the bathroom.

"wow, you weren't kidding about the 'having to pee all the time'-thing," Maniac says as I come back out, only to get back in, come back out, get back in and come back out of the bathroom.

"nope, not kidding. Most people drink and pee and drink and pee, right? But not me. I drink and drink and drink and drink and then, the next morning, my body suddenly realizes the liquid it has been storing inside of me has to also _come out_ at some point and I'm rushing to the bathroom seventeen times a minute my first four waking hours," I say.

"that must be annoying," he says and I shrug.

"yeah, but Lynn is in her room cursing Apollo and Helios right now for making her head pound," I say. "I really prefer having to pee a lot over _that_."

"yeah, Apollo and Helios can be real assholes to people with hangovers," Maniac says, smiling widely.

"so, you gonna tell me about 'the big mystery-favor' yet?" I sigh and shake my head.

"not today. Tomorrow's not looking so good either," I say before rushing back into the bathroom.

Damn, I'd almost forgotten how annoying the morning after a big drinking-game can be.

"fine," Maniac says as I come back out, talking as if our conversations hasn't been interrupted at all. "I won't ask you about the mystery-favor for at least another six hours. But only if you tell me everything you know about your mother's mystery-man."

I look at him questioningly and he just smiles and shrugs.

"I'm a sucker for good mysteries," he says.

"well, it's not really much of a mystery. My mom was getting drunk in a bar one day, somewhere between eighteen and twenty-five – no, wait, between...uh...eleven and eighteen – years ago, as she usually did every single evening back then, when some guy told her it was probably time to stop drinking. They got into a fight and somehow that ended up with my mom and this mystery-man in some dinky motel-room doing the freaky together," I say, shrugging as well. "she says he was extremely beautiful and charming and he seemed to know exactly what she did for a living, but he didn't care. He said he just wanted to be with the woman that night, not the professional. Probably just some asshole looking for a quick, and _free_ fuck with a prostitute."

...

"hey, if I were to guess about the mystery-favor, would you tell me when I get it right?" Maniac asks me exactly six hours later, when I'm finally rid of all that extra fluid in my body and my day can finally really begin.

I shrug. "sure, fine, I guess."

"you owe a favor to Chronos, the god of time. So whatever he did for you, it probably had to do with 'time', correct?" he asks.

I smile and nod.

"and you seem to get confused about how old you are or what year it is, so I'm guessing he messed around with your personal time-line, correct?" he asks.

I nod, not smiling anymore.

"you seem pretty good with alcohol, even though you're technically still a minor – in _this_ time-line – and you always confuse this year with some year into the future, not into the past, so I'm guessing he sent you _back_ in time, correct?"

I sigh deeply and nod.

"now, since you still live with your mother and you are physically fifteen, I'm guessing he didn't just send you back, he completely reversed your time-line so you get to relive your precious teen-years again, correct?"

I sink back deeper into the chair, still nodding away like a human-sized bobble-head.

"and you obviously don't mind him having done that, even going so far as to say you 'owe him a favor for it', so either you were really old and dying and trying to gain another lifetime to live or you made a few mistakes in your life that screwed it up so badly it became – almost – unbearable. So, I'm guessing, you don't mind...because this gives you the chance to fix those mistakes and make a better life for yourself, correct?"

Still nodding. Damn, this guy is good. He figured all that out from spending one day with me, hearing me trip over the date and my age?

"I'm smarter than I look," he says, smiling widely.

...

"but there are some things I can't figure out. First of all: in _this_ time-line, the titans are expressively forbidden from interfering directly with a human's fate, unless something forces their hand. Had that changed in your time-line?" he asks and I shrug.

"I don't know. I know what he did for me, but I never actually met the guy, you know? Apparently that guy doesn't leave Olympus all that often. He just, I don't know, _zapped_ me from a distance or something," I say.

"curious. And then there's something else: you said at the airport that you owe a favor to Chronos 'and some guy you don't know the identity of', what was that about?" he asks and I laugh.

"hmm, now you're just asking for answers. I told you I'd tell you if you _guessed_ something, I never agreed to _give_ you the answers," I say sadistically, laughing and shaking my head at Maniac's puppy-dog-eyes.

"you're going to have to do better than plain old puppy-dog-eyes if you want something from me," I say.

"okay, so I'm _guessing..._ this mystery-person was – is, will be, whatever – the one forcing Chronos' hand so he'd be able to _zap_ you from a distance, as you call it, correct?"

"that is not entirely correct," I say in an official voice, making Maniac swear.

A look of intense concentration appears on his face and I'm guessing he's thinking real hard about what else he can _guess_.

"this mystery-person is the one that gave _you_ some kind of power over Chronos and _you_ used that to force Chronos' hand," Maniac says. "I'm guessing."

I shrug. "well, that is not _entirely_ correct either, but I guess it counts."

"well, that doesn't tell me anything at all," he says annoyedly and I laugh again.

"no, it doesn't. But like I said, I never agreed to _give_ you any answers, only to let you know if the answers you already think you have are the correct ones," I say.

"let's see...not _entirely_ correct, but somewhat correct...so...hmm"

...

"I know, I know, I know!" he yells excitedly. "okay, let's go back to the beginning. You met a mystery-person who gave you...no, _traded_ you an item, correct?"

How the hell did he know about the trade?

"ah, so I'm right. Well, if it was a 'trade' and not a 'gift', then I'm pretty sure the item this person gave you was a small coin, a medal with the likeliness of Chronos on it," he says, making me frown.

Now how did he know _that_?

He laughs. "those medals have to be traded. They cannot be gifted, found or stolen, for then they would lose all their magic instantly," he explains.

"so, this person traded you something, probably something stupid and cheap – a piece of trash, a broken toy, something like that – for one of Chronos' medals. That tells me the mystery-person was an Olympian god. Olympians are the only ones allowed to change people's fates in that way and only the gods and titans are in possession of those medals. At least, the ones that still have magic in them. So an Olympian god traded you something of little or no value for a medal with the likeliness of Chronos, the titan god of time, on it, correct?"

I nod, realizing _he's_ actually teaching _me_ about what really happened to me.

"then you used that medal on another item, probably some human-made item that holds magic. A wishing well or something like that."

I laugh and nod.

"by putting these two types of magic – divine and human-made – together, you created a force strong enough to call on the titan's powers, basically forcing his hand – not giving him the chance to refuse your 'request' – and make him grant you whatever you wished for. You wished to be sent back in time so you could fix the mistakes you had made in your mid-teens that led to your life being nearly unbearably miserably in your own time-line. Still correct?" I nod.

"Chronos used his powers, not to send you back to _talk_ to your younger self, as is common in these kinds of cases, when someone asks to be sent back in time, but send you back to _being_ your younger self instead, only with the memories of your older self still intact, correct?" Still nodding.

"and now you might even know how to get back into your own time-line, but you've decided to stay here instead, possibly because you are afraid going back will lead you into the exact same time-line that you'd left, and some _other_ version of you will reap the rewards of your work here, correct?"

How in Hades did he figure that one out?

He looks at me for confirmation this time, so I shrug and pull out my wallet, showing him the medal I still keep tucked in there.

"damn," he mumbles, taking the coin and staring at it for a few seconds.

Then he reaches into his own pocket and pulls out his own wallet and his own medal.

 _The exact same medal._

"well, I guess that solves the mystery of who my mystery-person is," I say. "that is your coin. _You_ are probably the one who gave it to me, allowing me to come back here. There is just one teeny-tiny problem with that..."

Maniac sighs deeply.

"you mean, besides the fact that I just told you only gods and titans still have these?" he asks.

"yeah, besides that," I say impatiently and he looks at me, obviously surprised and confused. I just laugh.

...

"seriously, Maniac. You really though I wouldn't notice you filling my cup with wine from _the same bottle_ the entire evening? I drank at least six liters of that stuff and yet you _never_ got up to get another bottle and you only ever poured from that one _._ In fact, you filled the glasses of _every single person_ at that table from that one bottle, _the entire evening_. I figured you out halfway through my third cup. My problem is that there are now _two_ of those medals in the sametime-line. Doesn't that screw up the space-time-continuum or some crazy sci-fy stuff like that?" I ask and he laughs.

"highly unlikely. One of these will simply not have any magic left, so it is now simply a medal. Pretty and still very valuable, but in no way magical anymore. I'm guessing mine still hold the magic, since it has never been used, and yours doesn't, as you've already used that one," he says.

"so even if I had decided to use it to go back, it wouldn't have worked?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I have no idea. I've only seen three cases of time-travel so far, in all my years, and never have I seen a 'traveler' in possession of the very thing that allowed them to travel through time in the first place. I guess I – or Chronos – decided we wanted to leave you with a small fortune, so you might put it in the bank, collect interest on it for a few years and _really_ make your future better. No mental and physical injury, no poverty,..."

"no way of ever getting back to my own time-line,..."

"maybe, but you didn't really want to go back in the first place, right?"

"sure, but that's _now_. I didn't know I would prefer to stay here before I left there. And you couldn't possibly have known either. I'm guessing you're not Apollo," I say.

"no, I am not. And thank the gods for that," he says, laughing. "Apollo is one of the two gods most hated by anyone who's ever drank too much. Seeing as I'm the god of wine, the last thing I want is to be hated by the very people who drink the stuff I invented."

I shrug. "I don't hate Apollo and I drank 'too much' many, many times," I say.

"true, but you are not exactly 'normal'," Maniac says, making me laugh.

"well, I can't really argue with that."


	7. My secret identity

**A/N:** I have nothing to say here, actually. Please read the chapter and if you want, tell me what you think. I don't mind criticism, it's the only way I'll ever improve, so...

 **Disclaimer:** I don't know why I keep putting a disclaimer in when there's rarely anything ownable in this story

* * *

 **7. My secret identity**

"so, if you are the god of wine and you can just refill your glass or bottle with a single thought, how come you made me give up some of my limited supply at the airport?" I ask later, when I'm in the kitchen making 'breakfast' for us.

Apparently Jove found out about Cora renting us hotel-rooms and he told her to cancel her reservations and invited us all to stay at his – seriously big – place since he's 'alone' this year.

Apparently the guy has a 'steady' girlfriend, but they are on and off all the time, so she doesn't always live here.

Jove lives here, Maniac – AKA Dionysus, apparently – and Dahlia also live here, though this house belongs to Jove.

Apparently they just up and decided to move in here one day and Jove was totally fine with that, which is probably why Jove's girlfriend left him _this_ time.

He's not worried, he says she _always_ comes back once she's calmed down a bit.

So anyway, me, Lynn and Cora are now guests here for the week and some of the other people from the group are also staying here now, making it very busy.

Still, Maniac and I are alone in the kitchen – like I said, it's a very big house. It even had _three_ kitchens – so it's okay for me to talk about god-stuff.

He asked me not to tell anyone, not that he thought I was planning to, so I'll have to be careful not to accidentally let it slip when talking to Lynn about the gods and stuff.

"I just wanted to see if you would, actually," he says, stealing a piece of half-baked bacon from the pan.

"that's unhealthy," I mumble, but I just put some more bacon in the pan. He'll probably steal about half of it before I'm done cooking.

"how come?" I ask, opening the fridge and taking out one of my bottles of wine – I prefer ice-cold wine in the mornings. And yes, 1PM is still 'morning' as far as I'm concerned – and some eggs.

"because I liked you," he says. "the outfit, the choker, the wine in your hands in the middle of a busy airport, not giving a shit about what other people would think about it,..."

"it's non-alcoholic!" I yell automatically.

He laughs and shrugs. "sure, but strangers wouldn't know that. They'd just think you were getting your drunk on. Besides, it wasn't non-alcoholic when I drank it," he says with a wink. "so anyway, I thought you seemed pretty cool, but I had to find out whether your personality was any good. Sharing is one of the three signs of a good personality."

"so, what are the other two?" I ask, curious, as he steals another few pieces of bacon from the pan, standing so close to me I can smell him. Too close for comfort, really, but I decide not to say anything about it.

"how you treat something helpless, like a child or an animal, and how you respond to insults or criticism," he says. "other stuff is important too, but if you can't get those three right, your personality sucks per definition."

"hmm, I agree with one of those, at least. How you treat something helpless is a very good indication of how 'good' a person you are. I'm not sure about the 'sharing' and the 'reacting to insults' parts though," I say, taking the bacon out of the pan and cracking the eggs.

"if you are very poor or something, you'd have been taught all your life to hold on to what little things you have. That means you can be a really good person, but it would take more than some arrogant guy shoving his wineglass in your face to entice you to share something," I say when Maniac just looks at me questioningly.

He laughs.

"but now it's time for a more serious conversation," he says, finally getting up, but only to steal one of _my_ bottles of wine from the fridge.

Can't he just, I don't know, conjure up a bottle of his own?

Still, I can't really complain, he was giving me _real_ wine, the stuff with alcohol in it, all evening yesterday.

"shoot," I say, loading two plates mountain-high with eggs and bacon before looking at him, seeing him just standing there by the fridge with the bottle in his hands, frowning and apparently thinking hard on how best to say whatever it is he wants to say.

...

"your mother..." he says eventually, walking over to the table, still not drinking the wine in his hands.

"you said something this morning. About what the mystery-man said to your mother, about him wanting the woman, not the professional. You said it was probably just some asshole wanting a free prostitute and, at the time, I agreed with you. But later I started to really think about it. I can remember _myself_ saying that to some woman I met a while back. I was at a bar when I met this woman. She'd been drinking so much it was starting to affect her health – I can tell stuff like that – so I told her to stop drinking. She yelled at me and got aggressive, so I took her to the motel-room I was renting that night to let her calm down in a place where she couldn't do others – or herself – any more damage," he explains, making me frown.

Is he trying to tell me he might be the mystery-man himself? As in, me or one of my sisters is actually a demi-god, or whatever that is called?

"eventually she calmed down and she told me she drank so much because she needed to forget about her job and her unwanted kid for a little while."

Kid, not kids. That means, if he really is talking about my mother, the mystery-man's child is me, after all.

"she had left the kid at home, alone, to go to work and later to go to the bar, because she was unwilling to spend any more money on that 'thing' – her words, not mine – than she absolutely had to, so she wasn't about to hire a babysitter. She said she had tried to 'sell' the kid to her customers, so she could get rid of that responsibility, but none of the potentials she had in mind were willing, so she was stuck with the little girl. I guess she'd never heard of the _normal_ way of adoption."

"I asked how old the child was – since she'd left the kid alone, I figured the she must've been about twelve at the least – and she said it – she kept calling the girl 'it' – was only two-and-a-half. I didn't sleep with her because I liked her or anything like that. Personally, I thought there was something seriously wrong with her if she thought it was okay for her to leave a two year-old home alone, just so she could spend the money she _should've_ spent on the child to go to a bar and drink until her liver stopped working. Actually, I only slept with her because I needed to distract her while I took some of her insanity away and planted the idea that she needed to take better care of the kid and that she needed to stop drinking so much. People notice it when they suddenly, out of nowhere, have a major change of heart like that, so I needed to do something that would make her think it was because of whatever I did that she suddenly decided to better her life. That's why I slept with her. But I didn't think...well, I didn't use any protection, because I can't get diseases. I wasn't thinking about the possibility of her getting pregnant, I was too focused on my 'job'," he says, sighing deeply and looking at me speculatively.

"exactly how long ago was that?" I ask, even though I really don't have to.

Between him meeting the woman in a bar, going to a motel-room, saying that line about wanting the woman and not the professional, there being a two-and-a-half year-old child – moon is exactly three years and one month older than me, minus the eight months my mother was pregnant with me, that makes two years and five months – and my mom suddenly throwing her life around after I was born – getting a 'normal' job as a cleaning-lady; taking better care of Moon, actually favoring her over us all the time, which is why we always suspected Moon was the daughter of the mystery-man; and going to AA-meetings twice a week for the first three years of my life – there really isn't any doubt left in me that the woman he is talking about is, in fact, my mother.

"about fifteen or sixteen years ago," he says and my first reaction is 'oh, then maybe it wasn't my mom after all, she doesn't have any fifteen-year old kids', but then I realize that, in _this_ time-line, _I'm_ fifteen right now.

"so let me see if I understand this correctly. You slept with a woman that seems to be my mom, about fifteen or sixteen years ago. And now you meet me, a fifteen year-old – somewhat – that is pretty much a carbon copy of you," I say and Maniac sighs, nodding.

"damn," I just say, my brain not functioning properly so I can't come up with anything better than that.

...

"I can't believe _I'm_ the daughter of the god of insanity, but it's _my older sister_ that is called Luna, something she was often bullied over because that could be used as an abbreviation for 'lunatic'."

Maniac laughs, but it sounds a bit hysterical, like he's having as much trouble with this as I am.

"wait...so in my time-line, is it possible you actually knew this?" I ask. "and that is why you suddenly decided to give me the medal?"

He looks up, seemingly surprised.

"I guess that's possible. If I had somehow found out about you being my daughter, I wouldn't want to see you end up in a miserable life, so I'd send you back here to fix things. And then I'd use my powers to send someone your way that could send you _my_ way, to make sure that I'd still find out about you, even if everything goes differently this time 'round," he says musingly.

"someone like Lynn, a girl who is into Hellenism and who goes to Greece to meet up with the very same group _you_ are a part of every single year. It would be no more than logical that if me and Lynn became friends, I'd end up here at some point," I say.

"that would be easy, because all it would take to send her your way is for me to send a message to the Zeus from this time-line, saying he needs to send one of his kids to your school and make sure you two become friends," he says, sounding excited about figuring out yet another piece of the puzzle that is my life.

"wait...Lynn is the daughter of Zeus? Does that mean...mister Javelin is Zeus? Wow. I seriously never would have guessed that. I mean, it fits, what with those ten-million bastard-children of his, but still...wow," I say.

...

"so...now what?" I ask, finally starting to eat my breakfast, even though it's cold now.

"I don't know. I guess I could invite you to come live here with me. Unlike Zeus I don't have two dozen children walking around. You are currently the only one alive, so I want to be involved in your life, at least. Or I guess I could maybe find a place to live close to you and your mother and you can come visit me sometimes," Maniac says, also starting on his cold breakfast.

"I love Greece," I say, sighing happily. "they have the best vineyards here. Greek wine has always been my favorite."

Maniac laughs. "of course _that_ would be the reason for you loving this country. Not the interesting history or the beautiful nature or the lovely weather or this being your ancestors' homeland. No, it's the great _wine_ ," he says.

I also laugh. "I get that from my dad," I say jokingly and he nods, smiling widely. "that you do," he says.

"but, as I was saying, I love Greece, but my mother lives so far away. Not that I particularly care about her, even less so now that I know what she was originally like, but my sisters... I can't very well just up and ask them to move all the way to Greece with me. And asking you to move away from all this – the weather, the nature, the history _and_ the wine, to come live in _my_ boring as hell town where the most interesting thing that happens is someone crashing their car into a tree once every fifteen years or so,..." I say, frowning.

If it was just me, I'd take his offer on the spot. Go home only long enough to pack my things and come live here.

But I have two sisters that I love, or at least don't particularly hate, and Lynn to think of.

Sure, Lynn and her mother probably wouldn't mind coming to live here with us, especially if I can convince Maniac to give them an allowance – as a god _without_ two dozen children to pay for, I'm sure he's rich enough for that –, but my sisters wouldn't want to leave everything they know just so _I_ can live with my dad.

My dad...wow, I'm going to have to get used to saying that. For over twenty-two years I've lived without a dad and now, all of a sudden, I'm a fifteen year-old _with_ a dad.

...

"wait, so what am I supposed to call you, anyway? Maniac, Manikos, Dionysus, _dad_ ,...? you have so many 'names' it makes my head spin and not in the good way," I say, making him laugh again.

"just call me whatever you want. Though I am going to get you to call me 'dad' or some variation of that word at some point, it's probably a bit too early for that right now," he says and I nod.

"agreed, even saying it theoretically gives me a headache," I admit. "not that you're a terrible guy or anything, but after living twenty-two years without a dad, trying desperately to pretend I don't care about having a single-parent-family, suddenly finding out you _exist_ and actually _care..._ " I shake my head and sigh.

"like I said, just call me whatever you want to call me and we can work on our father-daughter-relationship with time," he says.

"what about Dio?" I ask.

"Dionysus is too long and Maniac no longer fits, since it's not even close to your real name, so..."

"the others call me Dion," he says and I shrug.

"Dion reminds me of Dior, the perfume. That's just weird," I say and he laughs.

"Dio it is, then," he says.

"Dio," I say, nodding.

"well then, Dio, we need to figure out a way to get my mom and my sisters to pack up their things and move to Greece," I say. "oh, and it would be awesome if we could get Lynn and Cora here as well. They love this country and mister Javelin is here and they come here _all the time_ , so it shouldn't be that hard to convince them."

"Zeus," he just says, making me frown at him in confusion.

"mister Javelin is Zeus, remember?" he asks and I laugh.

"I don't care. I'm not allowed to call him that in public anyway, so I'll just stick to 'mister Javelin'. I can call you 'Dio' in public because it's a pretty normal name, but you can't shorten 'Zeus', so..." I say, shrugging.

"shorten?" he asks. "as if you shorten everything. His mortal name is 'Jove', but you call him 'mister Javelin'. That is much _longer_ than his actual name."

I sigh deeply, making him look at me questioningly.

"I want a secret identity too," I say childishly and he laughs.

"you mean, besides you being a demi-god?" he asks and I nod.

"yeah, because my demi-god self and my human self have _the same name_ , so it's not a real secret identity. Not like you and mister Javelin. You have Dionysus and Manikos, he has Zeus and Jove. There's Clark Kent and Superman, Bruce Wayne and Batman,... All I have is Leila and...Leila," I say.

...

"well, let's see. I keep a list of names for when I have a baby, crossing out the ones that are getting 'old-fashioned' and adding new ones I like. So..." he says, walking into the living room and grabbing his bag before coming back.

He searches through the bag and pulls out a small notebook.

"the girl names are, in alphabetical order: Alysa – which means princess; Amarande – immortal; Andree – strong woman; Annice – pure; Bryony – which is the name a species of vine I particularly like; Calista – the most beautiful; Denyse – which means 'of Dionysus'," he says, smiling widely before continuing. "Diantha – divine flower; Dione – after my own name, it means 'lover of wine'; Ivy – I don't think I have to explain that one; Lara – cheerful; Rhianna – melody; Talitha – blooming or joyful; Thera – wild; Xandra – insane; and Zebina – gifted one. So if I'd had the choice, I would've named you one of those. Just pick one to use as your 'divine name' and you can keep using 'Leila' as your mortal name, problem solved."

"well, I like Xandra," I say. "and Denyse, if only for its meaning. And Ivy. So which one of those do you think fits me best?" I ask.

He thinks about it for a little while and then shrugs. "I think Ivy or Denyse. But I personally like Denyse best and not only for its meaning. I think it just fits you," he says.

"alright then. Denyse. I like it," I say, nodding.

"tell me again how we went from 'by the gods! We're father and daughter!' to 'what would be a good 'superhero-name' for you'?" he asks, laughing and I shrug.

"that's easy. Since I just found out I'm your daughter, meaning I am a demi-god, I need a secret identity, so I need a secret name. That's the rule, you know?" I ask.

"who came up with _that_ rule?" he asks.

"I did. Pay attention, will you?" I ask and he laughs again.

"sure, sure. Well, first things first, give me your mother's phone-number so I can call her and explain what is going on...well, some of it, anyway," he says and I laugh.

"oh, sure. No problem. No problem _at all_ ," I say, grabbing a pen and his notebook eagerly, writing the number on a blank page and shoving the notebook back into his hands

"have fun explaining to her that you're the one she's been hopelessly in love with for sixteen years and how you _don't_ want anything to do with her, but you still want her to move to an entirely different country because you want to spend time with your daughter," I say when Maniac – Dio – looks at me suspiciously. Guess he realized there was something odd about my eagerness to give him that number.

He sighs and shakes his head, but he does take his phone out of his bag and starts typing in the number.

Right then Lynn comes walking into the kitchen. Dio looks at me, then at her and, understanding what he's asking me, I nod.

"come on, Lynn, I need to talk to you," I say, dragging her out of the kitchen right when she opened her mouth to say 'good morning' or something.

...

"oh. my. god," Lynn saying, jumping up and down, clapping her hands. "this is _so_ romantic. A boring trip to Greece just turned into a touching family-reunion."

I laugh. "it's hardly 'touching'. He just told me 'well, I didn't really _want_ to sleep with your mom, but I did anyway, so...welcome to the family'," I say. "and I now know something I didn't know before that makes me giving you that necklace pretty damn funny."

Lynn frowns and looks down at the necklace, making me laugh again.

"a lightning bolt. That's brilliant," I say, still chuckling, making her even more confused. "never mind that. So anyway, you're going to talk to your mom about this, right? Because I'm pretty sure I can convince Dio – that's Maniac. My...dad – to give you an allowance that'll get you by much more easily than whatever mister Javelin is giving you does," I say.

Lynn nods so fast I'm worried her head will pop right off from the force. She's bound to get whiplash or something.

"sure, if we can find a house to live in here in Greece, my mom will be packing her bags telekinetically as we're on the plane home, too impatient to wait," she says. "she always said we'd move here someday, but we never did because the people around here have this tendency to build or restore these beautiful, huge buildings and calling them houses, instead of just building apartment-blocks like they do in America, so we could never afford to live here."

She's babbling as she's walking out of the room, probably on her way to tell Cora about this.

"well, I've talked to your mother and told her," Dio says, walking into the room as Lynn leaves.

There's a frown on his face and he looks a bit sick.

"how bad was it?" I ask sympathetically.

He chuckles, but he doesn't sound very amused. "well, it wasn't so bad...after I'd explained to her that just because I want to be involved in your life, that doesn't mean I want to _marry_ her," he says and I can't help it, I laugh.

I laugh so hard I almost fall off my chair.

"I'm sorry...I can't... _marry_...that's _genius,_ " I manage to say, making Dio laugh as well as he finally sees the humor in this.

"oh damn, my mom's out of her mind," I say when I've finally calmed down.


	8. Meeting the family

**A/N:** I've been listening to the nyan-cat song and it's been stuck in my head for three days now, which is incredibly annoying.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the songs Leila sings and I don't actually know who do.

* * *

 **8. Meeting the family**

"how are you doing today, Denyse?" mister Javelin asks, walking into the room me and Lynn are emptying.

I smile at his use of my 'divine' name.

Dio explained to him and Dolios – which is apparently the mortal name for 'Hermes' – about me being his daughter and about the 'superhero-name'-thing and those two immediately decided to call me Denyse from now on. Apparently they think I'm completely within my right to choose my own name, 'all things considering' – whatever _that_ means.

"I'm doing super, mister Javelin," I say.

He smiles and shakes his head. He told me that when we're alone I can just call him 'Zeus' or even just 'hey, you' or something, considering we're family now, but I politely refused.

Well, if you can call me saying 'no way in hell...uh, I mean Hades' polite.

Fun fact, since Dionysus is Zeus' son, me and Lynn are also related now. How awesome is that?

"do you need any help clearing this room?" he asks, but I shake my head.

"no, sirrey, I'm doing alright here. All I need to do now is get rid of that sofa and those plants and I can start redecorating this place. Well, after I've vacuumed and dusted it, this place looks like it hasn't been cleaned in a century or two," I say.

"well, if you need anything..." he says, shrugging, and I laugh.

"you know, just because you're, like, my grandpa now, doesn't mean you have to be super-nice to me," I say and he shrugs again.

"that may be so, but I do have fifteen years of absence to make up for and you are my daughter's best friend," he says and I laugh.

"first of all: you actually have twenty-two years to make up for, remember the 'time-travel'-thingy? And second of all: half the people on this planet are 'your daughter's best friend'...and the other half are 'your _son'_ s best friend'," I say and he sighs.

"I already told you, I only have ten living children at this time," he says and I shrug.

"dude, you have _ten_ children. _None_ of which are from your _wife_. That's _insane_ and not in the good way," I say, making him sigh again.

...

"Hera is oversensitive, she gets angry over the smallest things and then decides to go away for a while to cool down. Only 'a while' in her opinion is actually 'a year or two at a time'. Then, when she gets back, she finds out that I've slept with another woman at some point in those two years and she gets angry again," he explains. "so she leaves again. Basically, for every two weeks we are together, we're apart for two _years_. I may be a god, but I'm still a man. I have needs and she has _no_ intention of fulfilling them."

"look, I get it," I say. "you don't feel loved and she's not around when you get horny, so you find your pleasure elsewhere. I don't even blame you for that. But they have this new invention called 'a condom'. If I was her, I'd be less angry at you for sleeping around then I'd be if I went away for 'just' two years, only to come back and find you with another woman, _who is pregnant with your child!_ Seriously! What is it with you gods and your inability to use protection when you sleep around? Do you not realize that _that_ is how babies are made? I learned that shit in preschool."

Jove at least has the decency to look ashamed, but I have no delusions about this. He'll take my words into consideration...and then go knock up some other woman.

"the girl has a point," someone says, a voice I don't recognize.

I look behind Jove, who now looks sick to his stomach, and see a beautiful young woman in the doorway. And I do mean _beautiful._ It's hard for me to look directly at her without falling to my knees in worship. Damn.

"Denyse, meet my wife, Hera," Jove says and I laugh.

"oh, that's rich. Hera, please, please, _please_ tell me you heard the part where he called you 'oversensitive' and 'unreasonable'," I say, making Hera smile, but making Jove look even more green.

He turns around to face Hera. "I didn't...I never said you were unreasonable," he stumbles, his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"you implied it," I say 'helpfully'.

"Denyse, don't you have somewhere to be?" Jove asks, not sounding at all happy, and I laugh.

"uh, yeah, I do. This very room, to be exact," I say. "you do realize _you_ are currently standing in what will soon be _my_ room, right?"

He mumbles something I don't quite catch – but I'm sure it wasn't flattering – and walks out.

Hera smiles at me and says 'it was nice meeting you Denyse, daughter of Dionysus' – how very 'official' – before following him out, leaving me laughing hysterically.

...

"what are you smiling about?" Dio asks, walking into the room and picking up a few of the plants – that are all dead, like nobody ever bothered to water them – and I laugh.

"Hera is here," I say, making him laugh as well.

"oh, this should be good," he says, walking out again, faster than he came in, probably on his way to spy on the not-so-happy couple.

I drop into the sofa, ignoring the big cloud of dust it sends into the air, and sigh contently.

So, I'm moving to Greece, together with my awesome best friend, to come live with my father and his family – all _gods_ – in this beautiful big house.

I came back here to fix two 'little' mistakes I had made, hoping it would make my future better, but this was _not_ what I had in mind.

I was thinking maybe I'd have a diploma and a decent job by the time I got back to my own time.

Now I am still going to go to school – Dio said there is a school close-by that has many foreign students, so the language there is English and they teach the Greek language to students after school-hours, so it doesn't matter whether I'm in my first or my last year, I can always start those lessons right from the beginning; I have a _dad_ and a really big family all of a sudden; I have a best friend who _isn't_ a crazy stalker and who accepts me as I am, craziness that I'd inherited from aforementioned dad and all; my own room, which is more than _twice_ as big as my old one; a super-fast laptop – Herby, which is my name for Hermes, bought it for me as a 'welcome to the family'-gift; I get to live in my favorite country in the world, Greece; all that and I'm only fifteen here.

I have seven more years to go before I get back to my own time – which then won't be my own time anymore, seeing as in seven years I'll actually be twenty-nine, not twenty-two, but whatever.

Seeing as _nothing_ is going the way I remember it anymore, I see no reason why I can't just completely forget about being from a different time-line and all my bad memories.

I'm actually starting to get a bit scared.

I mean, what if this is all just a really long dream and I'm in a coma in the real world or something? I mean, time-travel, gods,...?

This all seems a bit surreal, like it's too good to be true. And I've been raised to believe that 'if something seem too good to be true, it usually _is_ '.

...

"you are a very odd girl," Herby says, sitting down on the floor in front of the sofa, snapping me from my thoughts back into the real world.

"oh, hey Herby," I say distractedly.

"hey, odd girl," he says, smiling.

"huh? Why am I odd? I mean, besides the obvious, of course," I say and he laughs.

"I've been in this room for twenty minutes now, trying to catch your attention, watching you go from smiling to frowning, to smiling, to looking really sad, to frowning,... What in the name of my dad where you thinking about?" he asks and I laugh.

"in the name of your dad," I say when he looks at me questioningly.

"anyway, I was thinking about all _this,_ " I say, making a wide gesture. "the time-travel, the gods, the moving to Greece,... I mean, it's all awesome, of course, but it's a bit hard to believe it's all real. I was thinking I might just be dreaming all this, like I'm in a coma or something and I just made all this up," I admit. "and that made me sad. But then I thought 'so what if I made it up, I'm having a blast here' and I was happy. And then I started to think I might 'wake up' at some point and have to go back to my old life, with all this to remind me even more of how much _better_ it could be and that made me sad again. And then I heard Hera yelling and that made me want to laugh. But then I thought 'if this is all made up, she's not real either' and that annoyed me."

I shrug and Herby shakes his head. "this is all very real," he says. "of course, if it wasn't real, I'd also be made up, so my words wouldn't actually mean anything."

"exactly. There is no way to prove this is real, because any 'proof' I find might just be made up as well," I say, sighing.

"so we need to look for things that are _so_ outlandish or complicated your mind couldn't possibly be capable of conceiving it," he says, smiling widely. "and I know just the place to find something like that. Come with me."

He gets up and pulls me up with him, pulling me along by my arm as he walks out of the room.

We go up the stairs to the second floor and further up, to the attic, and I'm just about to ask him what he could possibly be storing in a freaking _attic_ that would be too outlandish for me to have imagined it when he drags me along to some door on the far wall of the room.

I hadn't even noticed that door there when I went exploring before. He smiles widely and releases me just long enough to fish a key from his wallet and open the door with it, before grabbing my arm again and pulling me through.

...

"wow, dizzy," I say, grabbing my head.

Actually, this entire place might be a little over the top, even for my weird mind, but Herby isn't convinced this'll be proof enough for me, so he just keeps dragging me along.

I'm suddenly ground-level again, even though I went through a door _in the attic_ to get here, which is super-weird. It really messes with my senses to think about how that would be possible. If anything, this place just makes me _more_ convinced that I'm dreaming.

"hey, Hermes. Who's the lovely young lady?" someone asks and Herby suddenly stops and releases me, but he grabs me again when I'm threatening to lose my balance because of it.

I rub my arm and sigh. "well, that's gonna leave a bruise," I mumble.

"oh, hey Pol. This is Denyse, Dion's kid," Herby says.

"say, I have a question," he continues, completely ignoring the fact that 'Pol' seemed to be about to say something.

"I need to find something _so_ weird or awesome the human mind couldn't possibly think it up without ever having seen it. You know anything like that?" Herby asks.

"just about everything in this place fits that description," Pol says. "and it's nice to finally meet you, Denyse."

He smiles and bows. Seriously. He _freaking bows_. Like one of those old-fashioned bows that a gentleman gives a lady right before he asks her to dance.

"don't do that. That is seriously creepy," I blurt out, making Pol frown and Herby laugh.

"she's Dion's daughter. What exactly did you expect? Normalcy?" Herby asks, completely ignoring the fact that he's seriously insulting me right now.

Well, if I was normal I'm sure I'd find it insulting and not complimenting.

"I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable. I am Apollo, but you may call me Pol," Pol says.

"ugh, here's some constructive criticism," I say, stepping back when he takes a step towards me, making him frown again.

"first: you talk like a crazy person. I can do that – because of who my dad is I'm kind of _supposed_ to do that – but you shouldn't do that. Talk like someone from the twenty-first century, for goodness sake. Second: I'm fifteen, so all that 'charming' stuff is borderline pedophilia. Besides, I'm related to you. Back in your day that might've been a-okay, but nowadays, that's called incest and it's creepy. And third, stop trying to enter my comfort-zone when I obviously don't want you there, it makes you seem like a rapist or something. It's disturbing," I say, taking another step back, even though he hasn't moved at all.

Herby is laughing his ass off, but Pol looks seriously shocked and confused.

"you have a lot of enemies, don't you?" he asks eventually, sounding annoyed, and I smile. "see, now _there_ 's the guy I wouldn't loath to call my uncle," I say happily.

...

"you are a very weird girl," he says and I nod.

"yes, I am. No surprise there. My mom is an ex-prostitute ex-alcoholic who tried to sell her eldest daughter numerous times and my dad is the god of insanity. No 'normal' genes for me, I'm afraid," I say, still cheerful.

"your mother tried to _sell_ you?" he asks, sounding horrified.

"no, not _me_. Like I said, her e _ldest_ daughter. I'm the middle child," I say.

"that really doesn't make it any better," he says.

"oh, _really?_ " I ask sarcastically. "the man that tried to hit on his fifteen year-old cousin is going to lecture about values and morals?"

Apollo just smiles and shakes his head.

"I hit on every attractive woman I meet, it's nothing personal. It's in my nature. I get that from my dad," he says with a self-deprecating smile. "I didn't know you were fifteen. They told me Dion found out he has a daughter, but that's all I knew. You look older. And as for the 'cousin'-thing: Zeus married his sister, Aphrodite married her half-brother and Poseidon has at some point had an love-affair with his own daughter. Hitting on your cousin really isn't that odd up here."

"aw, you just said I'm 'attractive'. And you called me a 'woman'. That's so sweet," I say and he laughs.

"wait, so am I allowed to be charming or not? Because you're confusing me," he says.

"you're allowed to be charming, just don't be _creepy_ charming," I say, shrugging as if that's obvious.

"okay, so how much is too much?" he asks.

"you're allowed to compliment me, obviously, but not allowed to hit on me. Unless it's complimenting," I explain, probably making him even more confused. "and you're not allowed to come into my comfort-zone unless I want you there, obviously."

"wait, so I'm allowed to hit on you as a compliment, but I'm not allowed to hit on you. How does that work?" he asks, like I suspected he would.

I shrug. "well, if you hit on me like Peter – my ex, in this time-line _not_ my ex – tried to hit on me – giving me a few words of kindness while I'm vulnerable so I'll sleep with you or something – that's creepy. But other stuff is okay. I still won't sleep with you, because as far as I'm concerned sleeping with your uncle is seriously _ugh_ , but I see no reason why I should disallow you to stroke my ego every now and then," I say.

Herby is wiping the tears off his cheek, he was laughing so hard he started crying, but he's okay now.

"alright. I think I get it...somewhat," Apollo says.

"I need to find you a nickname, because 'Apollo' doesn't work," I sigh.

"I told you to call me Pol, didn't I? Everyone does," he says, but I shake my head.

"I'm not 'everyone'," I say. "oh, I know! I'll call you Polly Pocket, like the toy."

Polly Pocket looks horrified, but I ignore it.

"just deal with it, Pol. She keeps calling me Herby and she calls dad 'mister Javelin'," Herby says, shaking his head. "she's completely insane."

"aw, thank you," I say, putting my hand on my chest and smiling sweetly.

"see?" he just asks.

...

"I'm not sure there's anything here that _your_ mind couldn't come up with," Polly Pocket says.

"see, that's the problem. She's convinced herself she's in a coma or something and she's dreaming all this up. So I need to find something _so_ outlandish even she couldn't come up with it, so she'll know this is all real and not a dream," Herby explains.

Someone suddenly grabs me from behind.

I guess whoever it is was trying to get a scream out of me, but I have two sisters and a history of being stalked, so I don't show fear or weakness easily.

I just grab the arms that are around my waist and throw them off me, turning around to face the little joker.

"hello," I say calmly, making the kid frown.

"you were supposed to scream or squeal," he says whiningly.

"well, I'm sorry, but it's going to take more than just grabbing me to make me scream. A skeleton in a black robe carrying a sickle might do it. Then again, probably not," I say, shrugging. "what about...a child wearing a hockey-mask covered in some unidentifiable dark-colored goo and a bright pink jogging suit covered with spiders, with a freaking _dentist-drill_ in his little hands, whispering my name over and over in that creepy way children in horror-movies whisper? Yeah...that one would _definitely_ make me scream."

"I'll have to try that sometime," the kid says, smiling widely.

"not on me, you won't. I'll be screaming alright, but I'll be screaming 'die! die!' as I bash your head in with a rock. I tend to react aggressively to fear," I admit.

"a child wearing a hockey mask and a pink jogging suit, covered in goo and spiders, with a dentist drill?" Polly Pocket mumbles. "and we're supposed to find something so weird even _she_ can't come up with it?"

"well, then I'll just try it on someone else. It's a really good idea," the kid says happily, ignoring Polly Pocket completely. "it even gave _me_ shivers just thinking about it."

I laugh and shrug. "well, if you ever need any more crazy ideas like that, come find me. I've got dozens of them," I say and the kid nods, still smiling.

Actually, his smile is starting to creep me out a bit. There's a ton of insanity in it, and not the fun kind.

"Phobos, there you are," someone yells and something sparks in my mind.

That name sounds vaguely familiar...

"oh! So that's why!" I say, snapping my fingers and confusing everyone.

Phobos, son of Ares, is the god of...wait for it...fear! So it makes perfect sense why a kid like that would smile so creepily and enjoy scaring people.

He _is_ fear, so obviously he'd want to surround himself with the fear of other people.

...

"who are you?" a man asks me rudely, pulling Phobos to himself – I need to find a nickname for the kid – and glaring at me.

"none of your damn business," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, but I'm smiling.

I like this guy. I don't know why, but I do.

"oh, I know. I'll call you Puck. Because you like messing with people, like the fictive Puck from that Shakespeare-play 'a midsummer night's dream', and because it's also the name of a moon, like your name. Well, it's not circling the same planet, but we'll just ignore that for now," I say, pointing my finger rudely at the kid.

Puck and his dad – at least, I think it's his dad, which would make him Ares...damn, now I have to come up with _another_ nickname. This is getting hard – stare at me in confusion, Polly Pocket laughs and Herby just sighs.

"get used to that name, kid, 'cause she'll be calling you that for a _long_ time," he says and I nod, unrepentant.

"and I'll call you Twix," I say, nodding happily, pointing at Ares, glad I came up with a name for him so easily.

"you'll call me Ares," he says angrily, confirming my suspicion.

"nah, I'd _never_ be able to remember that. But 'Twix'... It fits, because your roman name is 'Mars', which is a chocolate bar from the _company_ 'Mars' and that same company also makes a chocolate bar called Twix. It's perfect!" I say. "and for the record, I don't give a flying fuck if you like the name or not. Most of the people I know don't like the names I've come up with for them, but like them you're just gonna have to suck it."

"do you have any idea..." he begins and I sigh. "...who you are? Uh, yeah. I know. Still don't care," I say, interrupting him, something that only pisses him off _more_.

"breathe, _Twix_ , you're going to faint or get a heart attack at this rate. And considering you won't actually die from a heart attack, what with you being a god and all, I'll just be standing here laughing about it," I say.

Puck is laughing his little ass off, obviously not at all bothered by my bullying his dad.

"I can make you wish you had never met me," he threatens and I laugh. "congratulations! You have already accomplished that objective," I say cheerfully. "now here you go, you can have this non-existent fuck that I give about all the _scaaary_ things you can do to me" I hold out my hand as if I'm offering him something, making Puck laugh even harder.

Then, out of nowhere, Twix starts laughing too.

"I like you, Denyse. I didn't think I would, since I loathe your father, but I really do like you," he says and then he walks away, dragging Puck with him.

"but...why?" I ask, seriously confused, making Herby and Polly Pocket laugh.

"Ares is the god of war and violence. He likes anyone who is annoying, mean or aggressive," Herby explains.

"and you just insulted him seven times in a row, so of course he'll like you," Polly Pocket adds and I shrug.

"guess I just made a friend, then. I'm still going to call him Twix," I say, making them both laugh again.

...

"whoa! It's like road, road, road, BAM! Ocean!" I say when we're walking along a path that suddenly, out of nowhere, stops and there's a huge body of water in front of us.

Herby laughs. "do you see that house there, in the distance?" he asks, pointing over the water to something that I _guess_ could be a house, but it's too far away to be sure. Still, I nod.

"that's where Poseidon lives," he says. "this is the path that leads to his house. I personally think that his house is one of the weirdest things on Olympus, so I wanted to take you there to find that one super-weird thing that'll convince you you're not dreaming."

"u-huh, and _how_ are we going to get there again, with all this water between us and it?" I ask and he smiles.

"this is where the crazy starts," he says, pulling me into the water, walking casually as if we're still on the path.

Though I don't show it and I just keep walking, inside I am panicking.

He doesn't seem worried about drowning. That's gotta count for _something_ , right?

"oh, dear," I mumble when the water reaches my shoulders, making Herby laugh, but he doesn't stop walking until we're completely submerged...and dry. Odd.

How come we're not soaked, with our hair going in every direction? That's what _usually_ happens under water.

Well, that and not having the ability to breathe like I'm doing right now.

I look at my feet and see that the path hasn't stopped to make room for the water, it just continues _under water_.

"weirded out yet?" Herby asks, smiling at my obvious confusion.

"a bit," I admit. "but being under water is very common in dreams and because humans that have never actually almost drowned or something like that are unable to _imagine_ what not being able to breathe for that long would do to them, we're almost always able to breathe under water in our dreams. Except in nightmares, which I had already determined this is not."

Herby sighs and shakes his head. "well, it's about to get much, much weirder, I promise," he says, letting go of me, now that he knows I'm not going to bolt, and continuing down the path.

...

The road to Poseidon's house is not a quiet one.

I'm so uncomfortable with being under water like this that I show signs of weakness.

My kind of signs, that is. When I get scared or extremely uncomfortable, I get really, really, _really_ annoying.

The trip is filled with me spouting stupid sentences like 'is that a shark? Oh damn, that _is_ a shark. That's a shark, isn't it? I knew it, it's a shark' – even when I'm pointing at a goldfish or something – and singing 'row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. It doesn't matter if it tips over and you fall into the water, 'cause you'll still be able to breathe' over and over, annoying Herby into threatening to leave me here – which isn't really much of a threat, because he told me we shouldn't leave the path, since we're only able to breathe as long as our feet touch the path, so he's got nowhere to go but forward or back – or push me off the path – which is a _much_ better threat, but still not good enough to make me stop singing.

"ninety-nine pretty little fish in the water, ninety-nine pretty little fish. You push one onto the path, make it flop around, now there's ninety-eight pretty little fish in the water," I sing and Herby grits his teeth in annoyance.

"I sure hope you're not thinking of acting out that song," someone says from up ahead on the path.

"nah, I like pretty little fish. But it's a catchy tune and Herby made me promise not to sing my version of 'row, row, row your boat' again, so..." I say, smiling sweetly.

"I actually would like to hear that one, if it's okay with 'Herby'," the man says, smiling as well.

Herby sighs and shrugs.

"well, it goes like this: row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. It doesn't matter if it tips over and you fall into the water, 'cause you'll still be able to breathe. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. It doesn't matter if it tips over and you fall into the water, 'cause you'll still be able to breathe. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. It doesn't matter if it tips over and you fall into the water, 'cause you'll still be able to breathe," I sing.

"stop!" Herby yells, making me laugh.

"alright, alright. I was just doing what the man asked me to do, chill out," I say.

"you must be Denyse," the man says, chuckling. "I'm Poseidon. I felt your presence here and told my servants to hurry up and clean the house, then I came down to stall you so they'll have more time to work."

I laugh and shrug. "you should see my room. I'm sure your house is spotless compared to that," I say, making him smile again.

...

"I know a song that gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves. I know a song that gets on your nerves and this is how it goes. I know a song that will get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves. I know a song that will get on your nerves, I'll show you how it goes. I know a song that is very annoying, very annoying, very annoying. I know a song that is very annoying. I will never shut up," I sing as we're walking into Poseidon's house.

Before I'm done singing it I can hear the door opening and closing again behind us.

Apparently some other guests have arrived. Strange, because I didn't see anyone else on the path.

"he wanted to come play with you," Twix says, giving Puck a rough shove in my direction.

I just shrug and keep singing. "I know a song that gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves. I know a song that gets on your nerves and this is how it goes."

"stop singing that damn song!" Hermes yells and I laugh.

"it wouldn't be 'the song that gets on your nerves' if you actually liked it, you know? But _fine_ , I'll stop singing _this_ song," I say and then I start singing again.

"This is the song that goes on forever, 'cause it never ends, never ever ends. Listen to this, my friend, I'm going to sing it again. This is the song that goes on forever, 'cause it never ends, never ever ends. Listen to this, my friend, I'm going to sing it again."

Hermes just glares at me and I sigh.

"what, you don't like _that_ song either? You're not a big fan of music, are you?" I ask. "fine, how about this? This is the song that doesn't end. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever, just because... This is the song that doesn't end. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever, just because..."

Hermes just gives up and walks away, leaving me, Poseidon – no nickname yet, Twix and Puck laughing our collective asses off.

...

"well, that was fun," I say, coughing. "but now I'm thirsty. Which I really shouldn't be in an underwater castle. Oh damn, now I gotta pee."

"first teach me _at least_ four more of those kinds of songs," Puck says, pulling a bottle of soda and a notebook from his bag, giving me the soda and writing down the 'lyrics' to the songs I've already sang.

"those kinds of songs? Like, really annoying ones?" I ask and he nods, making me smile.

I sit down on the ground and take a deep breath.

"well, there is this one song I know that I personally think is really fun, but nobody else seems to like it. Well, maybe Aqua here will like it, because it's about sea-creatures. It goes like this: Narwhals, Narwhals, swimming in the ocean, causing a commotion, 'cause they are so awesome. Narwhals, Narwhals, swimming in the ocean, pretty big and pretty white, they'd beat a polar bear in a fight. Like an underwater unicorn, they've got a kick-ass facial horn. They're the Jedi of the sea. They stop Cthulu eating ye," I sing, making Puck clap his hands in delight and making Poseidon – Aqua from now on. Unimaginative, but whatever – smile.

"I actually _do_ like that one," he says.

"and then of course there is the nyan-cat song, which doesn't actually have any lyrics. It's just nyan-nyan-nya-ne-ne-ne-nya-nya over and over, a repetitive melody that gets stuck in your head for _days_ , which makes it _that_ much more annoying, 'cause you'll still be hearing it, even when no-one's singing it," I say, singing the song for a while, making the three people still listening laugh and come sit down on the floor with me, listening attentively. "fun, isn't it?" I ask.

"I could listen to that for hours on end and never get bored of it. But trust me, you'll be having that stupid melody stuck in your head three days from now, cursing me as you're singing it obsessively. It's a slow, but effective way of annoying the shit out of people," I say, laughing.


	9. Puck

**A/N:** I'm not always going to be posting 2-3 chapters a day. I can do that _now_ , because I already have 12 chapters ready, but after that it'll probably be a couple of days in between chapters.

 **Disclaimer:** I _still_ don't own the nyan-cat song, sadly, but I did manage to finally get it out of my head.

* * *

 **9. Puck**

Okay, it's official. Olympus is now my favorite place _ever._

The nyan-cat song has somehow spread through the entire town – I guess you should call it a town, but only because it's still Greece, so it's technically not a 'country'. It's definitely big enough to be a country, or even a continent – like a virus in these last two days and now everywhere I go people are singing it or humming it or moving in a way that makes it plain to see they've got the song stuck in their heads.

Nobody knows I'm the one that caused this epidemic, except Twix, Puck and Aqua and they would never tell anyone.

They're enjoying this as much as I am.

I'm pretty sure there would be an angry mob coming my way if they would ever find out about it.

But, luckily for me, with stuff like this, like rumors and such, when it comes to the point that _this many_ people are repeating it, it's almost impossible to figure out who the source of it was.

I can see people covering their ears or looking really annoyed, while they themselves are humming the song.

Of course me, Aqua, Twix and Puck keep laughing out asses off whenever we see something like that, we're all pretty sadistic.

Puck even sings it himself every now and then, not just because it's stuck in his head, but because he think the number of people singing it is decreasing, so he wants to refuel the fire.

Now me, I don't mind having that song stuck in my head.

I _love_ it, in fact.

It drives most people crazy, but I was crazy to begin with, so it has no negative effect on me.

Same probably goes for the other three.

I don't know about Aqua, but Twix and Puck aren't exactly known for being the most 'normal' people around.

...

"you are one very sadistic little girl," someone says behind me and I gulp, a bit scared – making Puck laugh in delight –, and turn around.

"are you angry?" I ask worriedly, but Hera just smiles – somehow, I don't feel like I should give _her_ a nickname. She's just so... – and shakes her head.

"my husband is going crazy, singing that song every second of every day. Annoying, yes, but not nearly annoying enough to keep me from enjoying his distress," she says, making me laugh.

"well, glad I could help," I say. "and just out of curiosity, how did you find out it was me?"

"well, you go to Olympus for the first time, become fast friends with Phobos – who _never_ makes friends that are anything less than infuriating or terrifying, preferably both – and suddenly everyone starts singing that song. I simply put two and two together," she says and I laugh again.

"I know a lot of people who'd happily hang me if they ever manage to 'put two and two together'," I say, shaking my head. "it's not like I did it on purpose. Okay, I'm seriously enjoying this, but I didn't _intend_ for this to happen. Puck is the one who spread it outside of Aqua's house."

"I'm guessing Aqua is Poseidon, but who is Puck?" she asks, looking confused and Puck smiles widely – creepily – and raises his hand.

"that would be me. Something about Shakespeare and a moon," he says. "Puck is the trickster fairy from 'a midsummer night's dream' and this kid also loves playing tricks on people. And Puck also the name of a moon, same as 'Phobos', though they circle different planets," I explain when Hera just looks _more_ confused from that explanation.

"really, some of those nicknames you come up with are so far-fetched they pass the 'illogical'-spectrum completely and just start making sense again," she says, sighing.

"she calls my dad Twix, it annoys the shit out of him," Puck says cheerfully, causing me to hit him in the back of the head so hard he stumbles two steps forward before turning around to glare at me.

"don't swear. For fuck's sake, you look like a seven year-old, it's weird," I reprimand him and he sticks out his tongue at me.

"that's better, much more age-appropriate," I just say approvingly, making him sigh again.

...

"fine, is this better?" he asks, sounding exasperated, and suddenly he lights up.

I mean, like a lamp.

A really, really bright lamp.

When the black spots have finally faded from my sight I can look at him again and what I see makes my head spin and my stomach fall into my feet.

"uh..." I say, my brilliant response to my adorable seven year-old friend suddenly looking like a man of about twenty-five.

A very, very _attractive_ man of about twenty-five.

"this is actually my true form, but nowadays children are considered to be more scary than adults, because of all those horror-movies starring child-ghosts and such, so I usually stay in a much younger form," he explains.

I hear the words, but the meaning of them is lost on me since I'm still too busy drooling over him. Even his voice is sexy.

"damn," I just say, waving myself, making Puck and Hera laugh.

Finally what he just said penetrates the fog in my mind.

"yeah, I can see how _that_ wouldn't exactly be considered _scary_. I mean, seriously, what's the worst you can do? Threaten to rape and kill me? I would die with a big-ass grin on my face," I admit, making him laugh again. Oh my. That laugh gives me shivers in silly places.

"well, I'll just leave you two to it then," Hera says, walking away with a big smile on her face, obviously very amused with this turn of events.

"so, I guess I'm your type, huh?" Puck asks, smiling widely as he comes into my comfort-zone – something I normally wouldn't allow, but I'm currently too woozy to protest – and leans over me.

"uh," I just mumble, looking up at him – something that wouldn't have been possible before. Damn, he is _tall_ too.

Then I sigh deeply. "oh man, this is going to be _so_ embarrassing, but I'm gonna have to ask you to please catch me," I say when I start to hear my own heartbeat.

He frowns, obviously confused, but I don't have time to explain it to him as the world goes black and I pass out.

...

"I can't believe you actually _swooned_ ," Dio says, laughing loudly, when he sees I've woken up.

I'm back in my own room, in the 'downstairs-world', and I don't have a headache or anything, so I guess Puck really did catch me and he, or someone else, brought me down here.

"I didn't _swoon_ , I fainted. There's a difference. I pass out whenever I get emotions that are so overwhelming – or when I get so many different emotions all at once – that my body can't keep up anymore," I explain.

"yeah, that's called 'swooning'," he says, still laughing his ass off.

"no, because it also happens when I'm extremely scared, sad, angry, happy, surprised,... Any strong emotion causes me to pass out. It's really annoying, but this is the first time it happened in almost two weeks," I say.

He stops laughing immediately and frowns.

"that is not normal," he says.

"yeah, no shit," I mumble.

"I've gotten used to it by now. It usually happens about once or twice a week, but sometimes as many as four times in _one day_. I went to many doctors about it. Most of them said I probably just have low blood pressure or a 'hyper vagus nerve'. That's the part of your body that deals blood to your digestive system, taking it away from other organs, like the heart and the brain. But it's also the part of your body that slows down your heartbeat when it becomes dangerously fast. My _hyper_ vagus nerve takes too much blood from my important organs, so I pass out in self-preservation. When you're unconscious your vagus nerve stops working, so the blood in your body can go back to the heart and brain. I wake up when my vital organs have enough blood to function properly again. The doctors said my strong emotions make my heart beat faster and for some reason my body gets confused by that, seeing it as 'dangerously fast' and activate the vagus nerve to start slowing it down. But because it's actually _not_ too fast, it quickly slows it down _too much_ , causing me to pass out," I explain. "or something like that, anyway. So when Puck suddenly _damn!-ed and_ came into my comfort-zone, my heart started beating faster, causing me to _faint,_ not _swoon_."

...

"when I damned?" Puck asks, walking into the room with a glass of water and a plate of sandwiches in his hands, back in his child-form. When I look at the glass and plate questioningly, he shrugs, putting them on the nightstand.

"you suddenly fainted and I didn't know what to do, so I checked online on my phone and it said I should make you comfortable, take away the reason for your fainting if that's possible and give you some water and food when you've woken up," he says, sounding embarrassed.

Seriously, _I'm_ the one that passed out in his arms and _he_ sounds embarrassed. That is so adorable.

"thanks," I just say, beginning to eat. Not that it'll help – that would only work if I fainted because of dehydration or low blood-sugar – but I am pretty hungry. I skipped breakfast this morning.

"and yes, you _damn!-ed_ ," I say between bites. "you go from 'aw, what a cute little kid, but that smile is _seriously_ creepy' to 'holy hell, ravish me, _please_ '. There is only one word for a sudden transformation of those epic proportions and that is _damn_."

He laughs. "seriously? 'ravish me, please'?" he asks. "that's a bit exaggerated, don't you think?"

I look at him as if he's lost his mind and shake my head.

"that's actually an _understatement_ , but I can't find anything to say to fully encompass _that_ ," I say, making a wild gesture at him with my hands. "so it'll have to do. I mean, seriously. Have you looked in a mirror lately? In my opinion, by far the scariest thing about you is how _disturbingly good-looking_ you are."

He's laughing his ass off, of course.

When someone 'compliments' you like that, like she's just stating facts and you're an idiot for not having realized this yourself, the only thing you _can_ do is laugh.

Dio walked out of the room halfway through my conversation with Puck and I'm taken by surprise, so no-one protests when he shines brightly again and the next thing I know the hottest person I've ever met is kissing me.

I sigh in pure, unadulterated _ecstasy_ and kiss him back, my mind deep-fried, so I can't even remember why – and _if –_ I should be complaining or pushing him away.

After a few minutes he pulls back, breathing heavily and smiling widely, and I suddenly realize I climbed onto his lap at some point.

"oh my," I just say, perfectly content to never move again.

He chuckles and puts his arms around me, pulling me tight to his chest.

...

"well, well..." Lynn says, after opening the door to my room and suddenly freezing in the doorway.

I turn around to look at her, my brain still not completely recovered from that kiss, and smile.

"hey, Lynn, you're back," I say absentmindedly, making Puck chuckle again.

"yes, I am," she says. "and so are your mother and your sisters. In fact, they're on their way up _right now_ and from what I've learned of them on the trip, they'll never let you live _this_ down," she says, walking over to me and dragging me off Puck's lap with force.

"you, sir, need to leave. Like, _yesterday._ If those weirdo's find out Denyse had a guy in her room, they're going to blow a fuse, _especially_ if that guy is obviously much older than her," she says, pushing Puck out the door.

He's laughing the entire way.

He stops in the doorway, resisting the force Lynn uses to try to get him moving again with ease.

"Denyse," he says, focusing his eyes on me and crooking his finger arrogantly.

I walk over to him immediately, of course. You simply _do not_ refuse someone like that.

He puts his hands on my face and pulls me in for another kiss.

I grab his shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing him deeper, but Lynn grabs _my_ shoulders and pulls me away from him and I _don't_ have the strength to resist.

Puck smiles widely. "see you later," he says and he walks out. Just in time too, because I can already hear footsteps in the stairs, my mother's footsteps, to be exact.

I've learned to recognize those footsteps. Whenever I hear them, I immediately stop doing anything 'bad' and start doing homework or something.

"damn," I say and I'm not sure if I'm saying it about my mother being here or about Puck's kiss.

...

"you have a _lot_ of explaining to do, missy," Lynn says. "I'm gone for _one week_ and I come back to find you sucking face with some creepy old guy I've never seen before."

I smile widely.

"old...he looks only three years older than me, in my mind," I say. "I'm twenty-two, remember? I'd actually be grossed out if I suddenly found boys 'my age' attractive again. I'd feel like a pedophile. And even if he is old, he is _sooo_ gorgeous."

Lynn frowns. "he's pretty, sure, but I wouldn't say gorgeous. He has a creepy smile and an arrogant look in his eyes that annoys me. Those eyes are _ice-cold_ and he's so strong I got worried about him beating me up from just being in the same room with him. He's pretty, but he's also pretty terrifying. I wouldn't kiss him if my life depended on it," she says.

"good, because if you did, I would have to kill you. Nothing personal, it's just the rule, you know? He's mine."

"oh look, now _you_ are creeping me out as well. Seriously, girl, tone down the possessiveness. You've known him for one week tops, because he wasn't around when I was last here."

"true, but have you _looked_ at him? If I don't get possessive about him, someone else is going to snatch him away before I have time to blink," I say, sighing and Lynn shakes her head, looking at me as though I've lost my mind.

"honey, like I said, the guy is _creepy_. I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that. You can have him, because no-one else will want him. He's _scary_."

I laugh. "sure, but he's supposed to be. He's..." I say, but then I stop, realizing I'm not supposed to tell Lynn about the gods.

"well...let's just say he's somewhat a 'professional' in scaring people. It's his job," I say eventually when Lynn just keeps looking at me questioningly.

"well, he's probably the best at 'whatever he is' out there, because that guy is terrifying," she says.

...

"I'm not seeing it," I say, after staring at Puck for ten minutes straight, probably making him mighty uncomfortable.

We're sitting in the kitchen, since Lynn was right about my mother blowing a fuse about Puck being in my room.

When Lynn told her – I'm not really angry, she did it so my mother would maybe chase Puck away, so I wouldn't be in a 'bad' relationship anymore – she started yelling and banished Puck from the second floor of the house.

And that was _without_ her knowing he'd kissed me.

"you're not seeing what?" Puck asks and I frown, staring even harder, but still not seeing it.

"Lynn, my mom, Dio, Herby, both my sisters _and_ Cora _all_ said you're not pretty at all. They said you were terrifying, but I'm not seeing it. I look at you and I just want to rip you clothes off, not run and hide," I explain, making him laugh.

"and that laugh... It sends shivers down my spine, the _good_ kind, but they all said your laugh is creepy," I say. "I'm confused."

He just shrugs.

"most of my 'scariness' is the magic surrounding me, my aura, so to speak. Not many people can see beyond that, so they look at me and immediately decide I'm not someone they'd want to know. You don't scare so easily, so you _can_ look through it and apparently the _real me_ , the one _behind_ the scariness, is your type," he says. "though I've never met anyone who couldn't see my aura _at all_ , the ones who can see past it just willingly ignore it, but they know it's there, they can see it, and when they're not focusing really hard, they get blind-sighted by it just like anyone else would."

"well, I already knew I wasn't all that normal, but still. It's a bit odd, isn't it? You're supposed to be super-scary, but besides your smile – and only the one you show when you're a child – nothing about you freaks me out," I say. "even when _everything_ about you is supposed to freak me out. Seriously. The only thing freaking me out about all this is Lynn suddenly calling me Denyse, like you guys do, when she didn't do that before she left."

Puck laughs and shakes his head.

He crooks his finger at me and again I immediately get up and walk over to him. He pulls me in his lap, kissing me in my neck – oh my – and chuckles.

"I for one am glad for whatever it is that makes you unable to see my aura," he admits. "I really like you and usually when I like someone it's one-sided, because they're too scared of me to ever consider liking me back."

"that's so sad," I say, frowning, and he shrugs.

"maybe, but now I've found you and I'm not letting you go anytime soon," he says, hugging me tighter.

I don't mind his strength or his possessiveness at all, even though it would probably freak out everyone else in this house.


	10. Unexplainable insanity

**A/N:** I'm getting close to the end of what I have already written, so after that you'll get the chapters as fast as I can write them. I don't write as fast as some people (uploading a chapter every two days or so) mostly because my chapters are all +/- 4,500 words as opposed to the usual 800-1000 words of other stories, and also because after I've written a chapter, I'll reread it twice myself and then send it to a beta-reader for another check before uploading it here. So most likely you'll be getting 1 chapter a week or so.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Mario kart or anything else.

* * *

 **10: Unexplainable insanity**

"you kids need anything else?" Twix asks, poking his head into the room where Puck and I are playing video-games, surrounded by ten different types of drinks and twenty types of snacks.

He's been spoiling me rotten partly because he 'likes me' – though definitely not in the same way as Puck does, he made sure Puck and I knew that –, but mostly because he's so excited about his son finally finding a girl who actually likes him back.

Guess even the god of war has 'mushy' feelings every now and then when it comes to his family.

"nah, I'm good. You?" I ask, poking Puck in his ribs when he doesn't answer, too engrossed in the game to notice anything that's going on around him.

And yet, he's _still_ losing most of the time.

"huh, what?" he asks distractedly.

"oh, no, I'm good," he says without turning his head, still far too focused on the game.

I chuckle and shake my head before passing his car with almost criminal ease and coming in first place, leaving him to take second place.

"god _dammit_. _How_ are you doing that?" he yells, throwing his controller at me.

He misses me by two _miles_ or so, but I still cross my arms over my chest and stare at him disapprovingly until he sighs, ducks his head and apologizes, getting up to pick up the controller from where it landed on the floor.

Luckily he is now turned _away_ from me, because it wouldn't do for him to see the small victorious smile on my face as I pick up my own controller again and restart the game for the millionth time.

...

I throw myself on the bed – Puck has gone to get me some more wine – sighing deeply.

Dio said it would probably be best if I just started school again with the new school year – it's not like they were gonna teach me anything I don't already know before then – because there are only two more months left of this school year.

That means I now have four months of vacation.

And I can spend those months traveling through Greece and exploring freaking _Olympus_ with my super-fun dad, my usually super-awesome – but lately not-so-awesome and frequently absent – best friend and my super-hot boyfriend.

Every girl should be so lucky.

And what do I do with all those perfectly good opportunities?

I let them go to waste, preferring to play Mario Kart with Puck and stuffing myself with unhealthy foods and wine.

By the gods, sometimes even _I_ think I'm insane and this is definitely one of those times.

I mean, I've already screwed up my life once by letting opportunities like this slip through my fingers and here I am, doing it all over again.

"now there's something I could never get sick of seeing," Puck says, leaning on the doorjamb, smiling widely.

I look at him, smiling, and reach for him with my arms, making him laugh as he walks over to the bed and leans over me to give me a kiss, but he stops right before his lips touch mine, putting his hands on my shoulders, pushing down to keep me from reaching up and closing the distance.

"you look really good in my bed," he says.

"hmm, wanna bet I _taste_ really good in your bed too?" I ask, blinking innocently at him and he laughs again.

He crawls onto the bed completely, his hands still on my shoulders and his knees on either side of my legs.

He buries his face in my neck and I shiver every time I feel his lips on my skin.

"hmm, yes, you really _do_ taste good," he says. "you feel good too."

His hands finally leave my shoulders to roam over my arms, hips and legs.

When he kisses my collarbone I finally can't take it anymore. I grab him roughly by his hair, pulling his head up so I can _finally_ kiss him.

He chuckles, but doesn't stop me and just kisses me back, pressing more of his weight onto me, which only makes it better, so I don't bother to stop him when he grabs the hem of my shirt and slowly starts pulling it up.

...

"you know, I think it's pretty ironic that you told me you'd _never_ sleep with me because I'm too old and you're my cousin, and now you're in a relationship with _your_ cousin, who is almost as old as I am," Polly Pocket says the next day, coming to sit down next to me on the park-bench.

Yes, Olympus has a park, if you can call it that.

It's big enough that you could get lost in it and not find your way out even if you walk in one single direction for two days straight.

"yeah, but have you _seen_ the guy? Without that freaky aura-thingy, I mean. He's drop-dead gorgeous. _None_ of my rules apply to someone who looks like _that_ ," I say, completely unrepentant, still floating on my cloud of happiness.

Polly Pocket just laughs and shakes his head.

"I find it a bit insulting that you apparently find that creepy kid _so much_ more attractive than me," he says and I frown, my cloud of happiness popping like a balloon, throwing me back into reality.

"like I said, I mean _without_ the freaky aura-thingy. He's seriously h-o-t-t, HOT," I say. "I can't actually see his magic aura, or whatever you want to call it, so I see him for _him._ "

That just makes Polly Pocket frown.

"wait, so let me see if I understand this correctly: you have a very human disorder – the fainting thing – which demi-gods shouldn't be _able_ to get; you can't see this thing that every single person, human, god or otherwise, can see; and you've spent fifteen or twenty-two years of your life, depending how you look at it, never even suspecting you are different from other people, even though _all_ demi-gods usually have at least a few things that clues them in about their true nature," Polly Pocket says, counting off fingers as he talks. "something really weird is going on with you, I just can't figure out what it is yet."

...

"I don't care," I hear a familiar voice behind me saying. "I like the fact that she can't see my aura."

Puck comes to sit beside me and I can see Polly Pocket cringe, then focus really hard on something and then relax. Forcing himself to ignore the aura, like Puck said most people do, probably.

"well, obviously _you_ would be happy about this, selfish as you are," Polly Pocket says, sounding annoyed.

Guess he doesn't like Puck, aura or no.

"huh?" Puck just asks, voicing the exact thing going through my mind.

"she also has those fainting-spells and something is blocking whatever powers she's supposed to have, but you only care about her inability to see your magic," Polly Pocket says.

"wait, you don't have any powers?" Puck asks me, sounding surprised, and I shrug.

"not that I know of," I say, making him frown.

"that's not normal," he says. "can't you, like, heal her or something?"

Polly Pocket sighs and shrugs. "I need to know what is wrong with her before I can heal it, you know that. And I have absolutely _no clue_ what's causing this."

I sigh. "does it really matter? Maybe I was just born defective. I mean, between whatever Dio did to my mom and my mom's natural insanity, it's no more than logical that I would be an unusual baby," I say.

"what Dion did to your mom?" Polly Pocket asks and I shrug.

"sure, haven't you heard the story? Dio only slept with my mom because he needed to distract her while he gave her a much-needed 'talking to' of the magical variety. He made her stop drinking, took her insanity away – or at least locked it up or something – and put the idea in her head that she needed to take better care of Moon, my older sister. But he needed to distract her and put some logical explanation for her sudden change of heart in her mind, which is why he slept with her. And because of most gods' total inability to understand something as simple as birth-control, I was born," I explain. "I figure it's probably because of my mother's health as she was pregnant with me – what with her going through detox from both the smoking and the drinking – and her refusal to slow down and relax every now and then during the pregnancy – probably because Dio told her she needed to work hard to make a better life for herself and Moon and she was taking that a bit too literally – _and_ the fact that Dio used his magic on her _as I was being conceived_ ,... I guess all that together just screwed me up a bit. But I'm mostly healthy, so I don't really see what the big deal is."

...

"wait, wait, wait. Dio locked up your mom's insanity?" Puck asks.

I shrug and nod.

"that's not good," Polly Pocket says, apparently coming up with the same conclusion I can see forming in Puck's mind.

"what is it?" I ask and then both sigh.

"well, all gods, and demi-gods, have one thing that gives us power. In Pol here it's sunlight, in me it's fear. In your dad, and so probably in you as well, it's insanity," Puck explains. "you attract it and you feed off it, so to speak. That is what allows you to use magic. That would probably explain why Cindy and Peter were so attracted to you. Those two both had some serious issues. Normally they'd be drawn to you and you'd take some of their insanity from them, feeding your own magic _and_ making them more...normal. But if Dio locked up your mother's insanity, you wouldn't have been able to 'feed' yourself in the womb, leaving you crippled, as far as your magic is concerned."

"I need to do some more research on this, see if I can figure out _exactly_ what is wrong with you, which parts of you have been affected by this, but if I can figure this out, I might be able to heal it," Polly Pocket says, sounding much more cheerful than before.

"but what about his aura? Is my inability to see it also part of this 'being crippled'-thing?" I ask, pointing at Puck.

Polly Pocket shrugs. "I have no idea, but I intend to find out," he says. "but it is possible that you'd have to choose between him and your magic."

"well, I'd obviously choose him," I say, surprising them both.

"think about it: I'd have to choose between my super-hot boyfriend or this thing I've never had, that I may or may not get if you heal me, that I couldn't possibly miss if I had to live the rest of my life without it. Easy choice," I say, shrugging. "but I have to get back. I promised my mom we'd all go out for dinner."

"I'm guessing she forbade you from inviting me?" Puck asks, chuckling.

I sigh and nod. "seriously, I get that they think you look scary, but you've never done anything to hurt them _or_ me and yet they're boycotting you. This coming from the same people that once started a nation-wide discussion on whether or not it was okay to say 'blonds are stupid' because since there is no actual proof to support that, it may be considered discrimination of the prejudice kind," I say, shaking my head. "but it's apparently totally okay to treat someone like a criminal, just because you don't like the way he looks. Something doesn't add up here."

Puck just shrugs. "well, people do strange things in the face of fear," he just says, giving me a quick kiss and sending me on my way.

...

"Denyse, you're back," Dio says as soon as I walk back through the door leading to the attic of my new home.

I'm still not sure how that door could possibly be there or lead to the ground-level on Olympus – seeing as there is no giant 'town' attached to the house that I can see when I'm outside.

"Dio? What are you doing up here? Are you headed up? Because we have reservations in, like, half an hour," I say.

By 'headed up' I mean 'going to Olympus'. Since the attic is _at least_ at ground-level for Olympus, I decided to just treat the place as most Christians would treat heaven. They look up at the sky, at the clouds, and decide that's where heaven is, even though logically they know that all there really is up there is clouds and, beyond that, outer space.

No-one who's ever been to space has mentioned seeing pretty winged people flying about and walking on top of the clouds, yet when people talk about heaven, they always look up.

So I'm doing the same. I've decided that Olympus is actually up there and we just can't see it because it's in a parallel universe or something. And the door in the attic is just one of many doors that were built right on one of the cracks in the veil-thingy that separates the two dimensions.

I can't be the only person who ever came up with something that makes absolutely no sense to explain away something that is not _supposed_ to make sense, right?

"I was waiting for you," Dio says, snapping me back into reality.

"in the attic? You could've just waited for me downstairs. It's not like I'm going to go to the restaurant from here. What did you expect me to do, jump through a window?"

Dio sighs and shakes his head. "your mother..." he begins and I smile, already knowing what he's gonna say.

"she has somehow convinced herself that my inviting _all of you_ to come live here, instead of just fighting her for custody over you, means I want to be a 'family' with you guys. That I want to be the father of not only you, but you, Moon _and_ Trisha," he says, exactly as I was expecting.

I can't help it, I laugh. "I thought you said you _took_ her crazy from her, but from the looks of it, you just _redirected_ it," I say.

...

"hey Dio?" I ask as I walk down the stairs, having finally convinced him that staying up in the attic for the rest of his life – or, well, the rest of my mom's life – isn't the answer.

"yeah?" he asks, looking for all the world like he's walking right into his doom, which makes me laugh again.

"sorry, but you look like you're walking the green mile," I say. "but that's not what I wanted to say. I've been talking to Polly Pocket, and he says it's weird that I don't have any powers, besides my immunity to the bad effects alcohol usually has on a person."

Dio thinks about that for a second and then shrugs.

"but you do have some powers. I mean, you do attract the crazies, even if you can't fix them like I do. You can see through Phobos' aura as if it isn't even there and you seem to be almost immune to most other magic auras as well. Being around Ares doesn't make you aggressive, being around Zeus doesn't automatically turn you into his puppy – his aura is seriously annoying, because it makes it impossible for _anyone_ to be rude or mean to him, except for Hera and apparently you – and being around Hestia doesn't make you homesick no matter how close to home you are. It's not just Phobos, I've noticed, that has no effect on you. _None_ of the gods have any effect on you, you just see them for the person they are and not for the magic they possess. As far as I'm concerned that is one of your powers. It's unusual for demi-gods to have powers that their divine parent doesn't have, but not impossible," he says, surprising me.

Wait, so my inability to see auras is a power, not a defect? Awesome! That means that even if Polly Pocket 'fixes' me, I'll still be able to see the real Puck.

"sure, but Polly Pocket said I should've had some clues that I was different from other kids, even without being around you guys," I say. "but I've spent over twenty-two years never even suspecting there might be something off about me, besides my fainting-spells."

"well, maybe there are loads of things that should've tipped you off, but you're just dense," he suggest, ducking to avoid the punch I throw his way and laughing as he runs off.

"dense," I mumble. "I'm not dense."

...

"mom, cut it out. He's not going to marry you, get over it," I say when we've only just arrived at the restaurant and Dio has already escaped to the bathroom for a little rest from my mom's endless remarks about us becoming a 'real family'.

She keeps saying we should move out of that big house and find a place of our own, because she wants some privacy.

No problem there, but when Dio remarked she could just find a house nearby and I could come visit him sometimes, she shook her head and remarked he should move _with us_.

"this really isn't any of your concern, Leila," she says, sitting down and waving the waiter over.

She asks us what we want to drink and then orders...for _all_ of us.

Including Dio.

What the hell?

And she orders freaking _coffee_ for him.

"uh, no. He'll want wine. Amethystos, to be exact," I say, remembering Dio's favorite brand – which isn't such an amazing feat, considering it's also _my_ favorite –, right before the waiter can walk off.

"which is it? Coffee or wine? Because I have other tables to serve, you know," he says, sounding annoyed.

"wine, definitely. Don't listen to my mom. She thinks that just because _she_ stopped drinking alcohol, everyone else in the world should too," Trisha says, sighing.

My mom doesn't protest, so the waiter walks off after changing the order, but she looks livid.

"he shouldn't be drinking so much," she says angrily and I have to fight to keep myself from laughing.

The god of wine _shouldn't drink so much_? Oh, that's genius.

"mom, Dio can decide for himself when enough is enough. You shouldn't try to decide that for him. And he drinks about seven glasses of wine a day which I personally don't think is 'too much'. He's in great health and he doesn't drink until he's drunk out of his mind, so stop complaining. And stop pretending like you have any say over what he can or can't do. He is a grown man and you are not his wife, nor are you even his _girlfriend_ , so you have absolutely _nothing_ to say in this matter," I say, beginning to get annoyed.

My mom has always been a bit weird, but after Dio locked up her crazy, _this_ shouldn't be possible.

She's getting to be almost as bad as Cindy, imagining an entire relationship that isn't there.

Sure, being around Dio makes most people's inner crazy come out – that is his 'aura', I guess – but my mom shouldn't have any inner crazy left.

...

"Leila, you need to stop trying to sabotage our relationship and accept that you will _not_ be the only girl in Dio's life. Honestly, your obsession with him is becoming downright repulsive," she says, making my mouth fall open in utter shock.

Even Moon and Trisha look at her as if she's lost his mind.

"my _obsession_?" I ask. "what in Hades are you talking about? He hasn't been around for most of my life, so I spend a lot of time with him because I'm still trying to get to know him. And because he's a great guy. But still, he's _my father_! Are you seriously implying I'm interested sexually in _my own father_?"

My mother just looks at me arrogantly, making it damn clear that that is exactly what she's implying.

"mom, you've lost your mind," Trisha says, shaking her head.

"she calls him Dio," my mother says, as if that explains everything. "and she's never been a religious person, but ever since she met him she's suddenly into this 'Greek god'-business, just because he is. Always saying those weird things like 'what in Hades' and 'by the gods'."

"mom, I got into Hellenism because of Lynn," I say, a half-truth.

I didn't really believe any of it until I met the actual gods themselves, but I can't very well tell her that.

It's true that Lynn is the one that introduced me to Hellenism _and_ she's the reason I say those 'weird things', I just automatically copied them from her because she uses them so often.

It's like an atheist saying 'oh my god', not because he believes in any god, but because _everyone_ says things like that.

Saying 'what in Hades' in this part of Greece is like saying 'what the hell' in America. You don't have to believe any of it, but everyone says it, so you do too.

"and as for me calling him 'Dio', I'm not going to call someone I just met 'dad'. Stuff like that takes time. He's currently just a friend that happens to have been involved in conceiving me, but he's not my _dad_ , not yet anyway," I continue, not allowing my mom to open her mouth and spout more nonsense. "and this isn't even about me, this is about you. You keep treating him as if he's somehow _wrong_ for not crawling into bed with you. Seriously, with the way you're acting, I'm gonna call to have _both of you_ committed if he _does_ sleep with you. Last time he made that mistake, at least he had a damn good reason for it and something good came out of it – me –, but this time he has no excuse."

That makes my mother frown and for a second I think she's going to say something about 'me trying to sabotage their relationship' again, but when I see her lips moving, she's not actually saying anything.

She mouths 'what _reason_?' and I curse, hoping she'll just chalk it up to me trying to get between them, so I won't have to explain that one.

Obviously I wouldn't be able to, I'm not allowed to tell her the truth about Dio.

...

"I've had enough," I can hear Dio saying from somewhere behind me right after my mother does exactly what I was kinda hoping she'd do, lash out at me for making that remark, calling me a filthy liar and a _homewrecker._

When she said that one, I could no longer keep in my laughter and that just pissed her off more.

Seriously? A homewrecker?

There wouldn't be a 'home' to wreck if it hadn't been for me asking mister Javelin to let them all move in with us, rather than buying them a house a few blocks away like Dio had intended to do.

I asked him to let them live with us so that there wouldn't be an issue about where I'd spend my nights or how often I was allowed to see my dad.

So I _created_ this 'home' and now she's accusing me of trying to wreck it?

That's hilarious.

Besides, a homewrecker is usually someone who breaks up a marriage and as we all know, there is only one married couple living in that house and those two hardly need _help_ screwing up their relationship. They're doing fine all by themselves.

"I want you to move out," Dio says.

Oh yeah, Dio's back. I'd forgotten, too distracted by my mirth.

"you can take Moon and Trisha with you, but Denyse is staying with me. If you argue with that, I _will_ take this to court and I _will_ take full custody over her. Between you verbally abusing her like this and your _unexplainable_ insanity, all I have to do is walk into the courtroom and the judge will be on my side. Remember that if you _ever_ want to see her again. Because after I get full custody, I'll be getting a restraining order on you."

He grabs me by the arm, pretty much dragging me out of the restaurant, leaving my mom and my sisters in total shock and confusion.


	11. Goddess of intuition

**A/N:** This chapter is 99% exposition/filler. I'm getting close to the 'main problem' in the story and there is quite a bit of information I still need to fit in before I can get to that. Again with my over-complicated world-building. Still, I personally don't think this chapter is as boring as the last filler-chapter, so there's that... Also, this is basically two chapters in one, but the part with the baby wasn't long enough to make a full chapter and I couldn't find a good place to cut off the part about the powers, so I just left it _all_ in one chapter.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, but once again I don't think there's anything really ownable in this chapter.

* * *

 **11. Goddess of intuition**

Me and Dio are walking to his car, arguing about whether or not is was okay for him to threaten my mother or not – shockingly, _he's_ the one that thinks is wasn't okay. He says he didn't intend to threaten her like that, but he just snapped when he saw her attacking me – when I see Puck running towards us, looking red in the face and when he stops, he takes a few seconds to catch his breath.

Now, keep in mind that this guy is not only a god, he's the son of the god of war.

It takes _a lot_ to get someone like that out of breath.

He must've ran the whole way here, a good twenty miles. What could possibly make him do that?

"Denyse..." he says and then he stops, taking a few deep breaths again.

"oh, I am _never_ doing that again. Next time I'll just wait for the damn bus," he mumbles.

"I need you to come to Olympus _right now_ ," he says, pushing me and Dio towards the car – as if we weren't already going that way.

"we're going, we're going. What is happening that you felt the need to run all the way here?" Dio asks, the same thing I was about to ask.

"there is this servant at our house and she was pregnant and nobody knew whose baby it was and now she's about to give birth and suddenly she's saying the kid is _mine,_ which doesn't make sense because I never even talked to her, let alone sleep with her. And my dad got angry, because apparently the kid might be _his_ , because he _did_ sleep with her. And Olympian gods are allowed to raise their children alone, completely refusing to allow the other parent to even see the kid, so he suspects she says the kid is mine because I'm not an Olympian god and that way she'll get to keep the baby." He's babbling, but I _think_ I get what he's saying.

"okay, so the lady is having your father's baby – your brother or sister – but she says it's _your_ baby so she won't have to give it up, because she can keep the baby _unless_ it's the child of an Olympian god like your dad," I say and he nods, crawling into the backseat and asking Dio to please hurry.

"so why do you need me?" I ask and he sighs.

...

"because, if it is my dad's baby, it's my brother or sister," he says. "and she's getting my dad so riled up with those lies that he might hurt her, or even kill her. While the baby is still inside her! She's close to giving birth, but she's not quite there yet. It'll be another five hours _at least_. Artemis is trying to calm him down, to stop him from hurting the baby, but the lady just _keeps_ antagonizing him and he keeps getting angrier and angrier and that just makes the lady angrier too. He won't listen to me, but he adores _you,_ so I was hoping you might be able to calm him down a bit. At the very least, you'll be able to talk to him rationally. With his emotions all over the place everyone within two miles was getting aggressive, including myself and Artemis, so all we could do is fight him down, not _talk_ to him. But you've never been affected by him before and I was thinking, since you can't see my aura, maybe you can't 'see' his either."

"you know, if there hadn't been a child's life at stake, I would find it hilarious that you, the god of fear, are currently _panicking_ ," I say, shaking my head and sinking down in the backseat next to him.

It's a fifteen minute trip, so there's no reason for me to already get riled up. We'll save that for when we get there.

"I am not panicking," he says, affronted. "I made the rational decision to come find the _one_ person who might be able to save what could very well be my sibling."

I laugh and shake my head.

"yeah, and then you _ran twenty miles_ to come find that person, when it would've probably been _much_ faster if you'd taken the bus or had asked someone to drive you here. _And_ you're babbling, saying the same thing several times. You're not thinking rationally, you're babbling, you're talking faster than usual,… All signs of panic," I say.

"fine, have it your way. I'm panicking. You'll help me, right?" he asks, sounding as if he really wants an answer.

I just look at him, confused.

"why would I say _no_ to that? Even if I didn't like you, there's a _baby_ in danger. Do you really think I'd just ignore that?" I ask and he shrugs.

"you might...if you see my dad like that, you could easily decide it's not worth the risk."

...

"whoa! Did you just _shoot_ him?" I ask, running into Ares' house and seeing him lying on the floor with an arrow sticking out of his chest.

Artemis – at least, I think that's her, this is the first time we've actually met – has her bow up, breathing heavily.

"he keeps getting back up!" she yells angrily and right at that time Ares' hand comes up, snapping the arrow in half.

He gets up, not bothering to take the part of the arrow that's still in his chest out, and starts charging a very pregnant, very scared-looking woman. I'm guessing that's the servant Puck was talking about.

Artemis raises her bow and takes aim, but I rip the arrow from her hands as I run forward, dropping it to the floor as I go.

She gets the point, I guess, because she doesn't reload even though she has six more arrows in her quiver.

I stop in front of Ares, putting my hands on his chest, hoping with all my heart he doesn't just throw me aside and keeps moving.

He seems to start doing just that, but then stops suddenly.

He still looks pissed off, but more in control at least.

"Denyse, move," he says through clenched teeth.

I shake my head. "give me ten minutes, I can fix this," I say, hoping I'm right.

He makes fists with his hands and his jaws clench even harder, but he nods and takes a step back, glaring at the servant-girl.

"you, what's your name?" I ask rudely.

I have no sympathy for that lying woman, only for the child _she's_ endangering.

"my name is Linda. I'm..." she starts, but I interrupt her.

"whose child it that?" I ask, pointing at her big belly.

She raises her hand and points at Puck, who is standing in the doorway, probably too scared of his dad to come inside.

Behind me Ares growls and I can hear his fast footsteps, meaning he's charging again, but I don't turn around.

"Ares, you promised me ten minutes," I just say calmly.

The last thing anyone needs right now is _more_ anger or panic. Puck brought me here because I'm the only person he knows that can handle this calmly.

I'll think about how super-awesome that is, that I can do this when we're surrounded by freaking _gods_ who are apparently helpless, later.

...

Ares suddenly stops and chuckles, though the sound seems strained.

"what, no more Twix?" he asks, sounding much calmer than before and no longer charging the lady.

Damn! When did I stop thinking of him as Twix?

Even Puck is still Puck to me, but Ares isn't Twix anymore?

I sigh. I'll figure it out later.

"fine! Twix, Snickers, Balisto, fucking Milky Way, whatever you want me to call you, you promised me ten minutes and unless I'm losing my perception of time because of some delayed time-travel side-effect that I've never heard of before, _you did not give me ten minutes!_ " I say, starting to get annoyed.

Not angry, annoyed. And the emotion is all mine, I can tell, Ares has nothing to do with it.

I just don't like the fact that for some reason Ares managed to get rid of his nickname and I don't know how he did it.

"time-travel?" he asks, sounding confused and then I suddenly realize how to keep him calm so I can fix this. I just need to distract him.

I turn around, turning my back to the pregnant lady who is now crying, even though she's been in this exact situation for over forty minutes and her eyes were completely dry when I walked in.

Sympathy whore. What, now that there's someone who is sane enough to notice you, suddenly you're a _victim_ here? Bitch.

Okay, so now I am getting angry, but still, the feelings are all mine.

I know. I'm not sure _how_ I know, but I'm sure Ares' aura has nothing to do with it.

Maybe it's just arrogance. Puck and Dio _both_ said Ares' aura couldn't affect me, so I'm just explaining away the anger caused by his aura.

Possible, but I don't think that's it.

"ask Dio, he can explain that one to you," I say, pointing at Dio, who came in with me and is now hiding behind Artemis. Coward.

That makes me smile and just like that I'm not angry anymore.

I turn back around. "you say the child is Puck's – uh, I mean Phobos' – right? This is your last chance to change that statement," I say and the woman shakes her head.

"the baby is his, I know it is," she says.

"very well," I say, turning around to face Puck.

"do you accept that child as your own?" I ask Puck in my most official-sounding voice, trying my damnedest not to laugh as he just looks at me, obviously confused.

'say yes,' I mouth to him, making him even _more_ confused, but he shrugs and says 'uh, yes?'.

It sounds like a question, not a statement, but it's good enough for me. I turn back to the woman.

...

"You said he was the father and he has accepted the responsibilities that come with being the father of that child. So now we have a man _and_ a woman with legal custody over the child. In a case like this the mother and father are joint natural guardians of their minor children and are equally charged with the welfare and education of their minor children and the care and management of the estates of their minor children. Equal rights, equal power, equal duties and neither parent shall forcibly take a child from the guardianship of the other parent legally entitled to custody of the child. That is the law. _However..._ " I say.

I say it _very clearly,_ making sure she understands exactly what that _one_ word means _for her_ , if only because I like watching the woman cringe.

"I have no doubt that Puck would want nothing but the best – and most expensive – education, toys, clothes and such for his child. You, as the mother, are legally obligated to take _exactly half_ of the costs. If you are unable to do so, you will have to file for bankruptcy, giving every single penny you own to pay for that half of the cost that is your responsibility. If it is not enough, you may – and will – lose custody of the child. However, you will still be required to pay a monthly allowance to the child's father for the care-taking of the child, covering no less than 25% of the costs of the care-taking. If you are unable to do so, you may – and probably _will –_ face some hard time in prison. So says the law," I say, taking a deep breath.

Damn, that was a lot of talking.

"of course, that is just your crappy luck. If the child was actually Ares' or something, all you'd have to do is hand it over and be done with it. No costs, no prison-time,..." I scratch my head and shrug as if it's just too damn bad the kid isn't actually Ares' and then I turn around, pretending my work here is done and walking away.

"wait!" the woman yells and I smile, knowing she can't see it, because I have my back turned.

"I...I lied, it's actually Ares' baby. I've never even been with Phobos. I didn't think he'd say the child was his, I thought he'd keep denying it," she admits.

"well then, let's get that baby out of you and hand it over to its father. And after that, I'm pretty sure you can go look for a new job far, far away, because Ares _still_ looks angry," I say, shrugging again.

...

"that...was the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my entire life," Artemis says, chuckling, when we're outside, enjoying some cool lemonade.

It was my idea. Sunshine and lemonade always manage to unwind _me_.

I laugh. "yeah, well, it worked, didn't it?" I ask.

"I mean, that 'law' would find _every_ woman with a rich husband in prison," she says and I laugh again.

"I repeat: it worked, didn't it? All I wanted was for her to admit the baby was Ares' and she did. Problem solved," I say.

"yeah, but how stupid _is_ she for actually buying that crap?"

"wait, that was all a lie?" Dio says, making Artemis look at him as if he's lost his mind and making me laugh even harder.

"what? I don't know the law that well and she sounded pretty sure of herself. What with the 'you may – and will' stuff and the 'so says the law'," he says, shrugging.

"I was sold when she started talking about the 'monthly allowance, covering no less than 25% of the costs'," Ares admits. "it sounded reasonable. I mean, I know that if, for example, a child has divorced parents, there is alimony and such things to consider."

"it was a _very_ convincing bluff," Puck agrees and Artemis sighs.

"well, yes, it was, but it made absolutely _no_ sense whatsoever. That law couldn't _possibly_ have been real. She started out saying 'both parents have equal rights to the child' and then went on to say Puck would be allowed to choose _everything_ , from what school the child goes to to what clothes he or she wears, with Linda having absolutely _no_ say in the matter. She would just have to pay up and shut up, basically," she says and again I laugh.

"but it _worked,_ dammit!" I yell, making everyone laugh.

"thank you," Ares says and it just makes me grit my teeth. "why are you suddenly 'Ares'? What in Hades happened to Twix? Puck is still Puck, Polly Pocket is still Polly Pocket and I'm trying to come up with a nickname for Artemis as we speak, but you are all of a sudden Ares. Nobody has _ever_ gotten rid of their nickname before, not even my own _sisters_ ," I say annoyedly, making him laugh.

"how would I know? I was as surprised as you were when you suddenly called me by my real name," he says. "I thought that was exactly your intention. Surprise me enough that I get distracted."

"well, it worked, but I still don't like it," I say, crossing my arms over my chest and pouting, making him laugh again.

...

"but either way, I am truly grateful for your help," he says and I shrug.

"whatever. It's not like I did it for you. I did it for the baby. She doesn't deserve being murdered by her own father before she even has the chance to live," I say.

"she?" Puck asks and I smile.

"I don't know why, but I get the feeling it's a girl. And usually, when I get a gut-feeling like that, I'm right. I knew that my mom was pregnant with a girl – Trisha – before she even knew she was pregnant _at all,_ " I say. "I had this friend once, Sandra, she said I'm either psychic or I just have this special power that I can always see the truth. She said I always know just from looking at someone what kind of person they are and I'm always right about stuff like guessing what gender a baby is going to be. I never really saw that, I figured I just had a good intuition or something, but she was convinced I was magical or something."

"right, and who was it again that said 'oh, I'm not dense, I just never _had_ any powers that might've clued me in on my being something more than human'?" Dio asks, laughing.

"okay, sure. _Maybe_ I have been a bit dense, but still...a good intuition is hardly a superpower," I say, frowning.

"well, perhaps not, but _always_ guessing a baby's gender right; knowing your mom was pregnant _before she did_ ; seeing straight through our aura's as if it isn't even there, seeing us for what lies underneath instead; always knowing from a single glance what kind of person someone is,... That isn't exactly 'intuition' anymore, it's obviously something much more powerful than that," Ares says.

"sure, but isn't Polly Pocket the one with the truth-obsession-thingy?" I ask. "that's not Dio, right? So why would _I_ have a power that focuses on 'truth' like that?"

"well, sometimes we have powers that are completely different from that of our parents," Puck says. "my dad is the god of war, I'm the god of fear. Sure, there is some fear involved in a war, but it's not exactly the same thing."

"ugh, Polly Pocket is going to have a field day with this," I sigh, making everyone laugh again.

...

"so it's entirely possible you have more powers and you just haven't realized it," Polly Pocket says.

We're back in the big house, sitting in the kitchen – my mom and sisters are upstairs packing – and he decided to come down as well, just so he can torment me about the truth-thing, like I'd suspected.

"well, I guess the intuition/truth thingy is easy to miss, but I highly doubt I wouldn't realize it if I had any more noticeable powers than that," I say. "like, 'oh, I suddenly became invisible. Well, I guess there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for that'."

"maybe, but we thought your dad locking your mom's crazy up crippled you magically and that is obviously not true – though it still might have something to do with the fainting-spells – and most demi-gods have at least three minor powers and one 'central' power, same as us, although their powers are usually weaker than those of a full god. I have the ability to play any musical instrument immediately, from the first time I see it, I can see the future of any human or demi-god I've ever met, I always know when someone's lying, I can force people to tell the truth, and I have the ability to control the sunlight to some extent. But my central power is my ability to heal any and every wound, illness and disorder someone might have, as long as I know what exactly it is I'm healing," he explains.

"well yeah, but...wait, did you say you always know when someone's lying?" I ask and he nods, looking confused by the sudden subject-change.

"do you have any half-mortal daughters?" I ask.

"uh, well, yes, I do. I have two living demi-god daughters, but both of them live with their mortal parents, because I'm not exactly the best father. Despite me being considered to be 'the embodiment of reason and responsibility' I myself like to be _free_ of responsibilities and raising a kid really limits that," he says, looking uncomfortable, like he's waiting for me to scold him, but I just smile.

"so it's possible miss Harolds is yours?" I ask. "because that woman _always_ knows when someone is lying and when they're telling the truth. No doubt, no 'what if', she _knows_. She's the first person I'd told about Cindy stalking me and even though it was such an outlandish story I'd figured I would need to give her some hard evidence to make her believe me, she told me right from the start that she knew I was telling the truth. And she _never_ suspected I was faking the fainting-thing even though _every_ person in that school and even my own mother had at some point thought 'I bet she's just doing this for attention'."

...

"when Zeus sent his daughter to your school, because Dion had told him to in a dream, he asked me to send one of my daughters to that school as well, to make sure Lynn would be taken care of properly. To make sure she wouldn't be bullied and that she'd always be in good health. I sent my oldest daughter, but her name isn't 'miss Harolds'," he says.

"I know, I know. Her name is Melissa Andrews, but I just always called her miss Harolds. You _do_ know I have nicknames for almost everyone, right? But really, it makes sense. She's a school nurse, so she 'heals' people, and she always knows when someone's lying. I don't know why it took me so long to figure out why you always reminded me of her," I say.

"but you are changing the subject," he says, smiling widely. "if I didn't know any better, I'd say all this talk about your powers is making you uncomfortable, because it _proves_ that you are seriously dense."

I sigh and glare at him, but that just makes him laugh.

"no, I'm changing the subject because I suddenly realized miss Harolds is a demi-god like me. As for the 'powers'-thing, I'm not sure what else there is to say. So I have the ability to drink until pass out without it having any negative effect on my body and I can always see the truth – though I can't always tell when someone is _telling_ the truth, so I guess it only works with 'sight' or something – and I'm supposed to have at least two more powers. But I have no idea what those powers would be. I attract the crazies, but I can't fix them, so I don't think that counts," I say. "and I guess the truth-thing is my 'central power' or whatever you called it, because it's obviously the strongest one. It's strong enough to handle the aura's of you guys and I'm guessing that's pretty big, considering you guys are full gods and I'm just a demi-god."

...

"you know, maybe you're looking at the 'Cindy and Peter'-thing wrong," Dio says, coming to sit down next to Polly Pocket.

Puck sits down next to me, but he doesn't say anything.

I guess his mind is still on the baby that is about to be born.

"what do you mean?" I ask when Dio doesn't explain his odd statement.

"think about it: when did Peter start treating people badly?" he asks.

I shrug. "I guess the day he was born. He mistreated me from the very second I agreed to go out with him," I say.

"yeah, but what if, just maybe, it's actually the other way around. You didn't attract him _because_ he was crazy, you attracted him because he was 'normal' and being around you _made_ him crazy? And the same goes for Cindy. You never bothered to check what she was like before she started stalking you, so it's possible that the more time she spent around you – even just being in the same class as you – the crazier she got, causing her to stalk you and be around you _even more_ , eventually leaving her completely insane. It would definitely explain why your mother is still crazy, even though I took all her insanity away. You simple _made_ her go insane again. So instead of taking their insanity to feed your magic, like I do, you do the exact opposite. You take away their normalcy, leaving them with nothing _but_ insanity. And that would also explain why Ares suddenly stopped being angry as soon as you touched him. Your aura would be the exact opposite of mine, because it consists of the exact opposite kind of energy. When I'm around people they act more crazy, but when _you're_ around they'll act more _normal_ or, like in Ares' case, more _rational._ "

"great, I have truth _and_ rationality. Sure I'm _your_ child and not Polly Pocket's?" I ask, making everyone laugh. "never mind, back on topic, I guess it's possible, but that still leaves one power that I'm supposed to have. Three minor powers and one central power, that's what Polly Pocket said. Making people go crazy is the first minor power. Drinking until I pass out without it having any negative effects on my body is the second. Always seeing the truth, let's call it my 'truth-eyes', is my central power. I'm still missing one minor power."

...

"whatever it is, it might have something to do with the nicknaming or the passing out," Polly Pocket says.

"I highly doubt my hyper vagus nerve could be considered a 'power' and the nicknaming has little to do with anything. It's just something I've always done. I enjoy making weird connections to things like people's names and for some reason I always end up calling those people by whatever weird connection I came up with," I say. "that's just the way my brain works. I make stupid connections to things. Whenever I eat French fries, I start thinking about sailboats."

I laugh when everyone looks confused.

"French fries are good with fish sticks. Fish sticks are made of whitefish. Whitefish are caught by fishermen. Fishermen use boats. A sailboat is a kind of boat," I explain.

"French fries, sailboats. Makes sense," Puck mumbles and I laugh.

"well, as far as I'm concerned, the ability to go from French fries to sailboats and actually finding a somewhat reasonable connection there is a superpower in itself," Polly Pocket says, laughing as well.

"yeah, but I don't think that one counts," I say.

Dio shrugs, smiling. "maybe not, but Athena's children are all very smart and that is considered to be one of their minor powers, even though it's not technically a power," he says.

"well, we'll figure it out eventually," I say, shrugging. "I personally think having two or three superpowers is enough. It's more than I had yesterday."

...

"so tell me again why we're doing this?" I ask when Polly Pocket lines up seven small cardboard boxes in front of me.

"we want to know how strong your truth-eyes are," Xena – Artemis, because they're both warrior-princesses, in a way – says.

"I don't see why that matters. There are dozens of demi-gods out there, do you 'test' them all like this?" I ask and she shrugs.

"no, but most demi-gods just have a weaker version of their divine parent's powers," she says. "or, in the rare occasion that they develop a power of their own, it's usually something common like super-speed or prophetic dreams or something like that. These truth-eyes like yours are something we've never encountered before. Even my brother, who is known for being the god of truth – among other things, of course – isn't able to see through people's aura's and know when someone is pregnant just from looking at them. So we want to know all there is to know about this strange power."

I sigh and shrug. "fine, so you just want me to tell you whatever is in those boxes, right?" I ask and she nods.

I shake my head and sigh again, but I just stare at the boxes as if I'll somehow develop X-ray vision or something like that.

"I have absolutely _no clue_ what's in those boxes," I admit.

"just guess, then," Polly Pocket says.

"fine. Uh... a teddy bear, a teacup, a pillow, a lava-lamp, a book, an apple and four pencils. There, I guessed. Can I go now?" I ask, but no-one answers. They just stare at me in shock.

"what?" I ask, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the attention.

"you just guessed each and every one of them, right down to the number of pencils in the last one," Polly Pocket says, sounding a bit dazed.

"are you sure you were just guessing and you didn't somehow see it?" Xena asks and I shrug.

"I don't 'see' things. I just call it my truth-eyes because I don't know what else to call it, seeing as it only works on sight of whatever it is I'm guessing. And because my eyes are apparently unable to 'see' the aura surrounding you guys. But, like I said, I had no idea what was in those boxes, so I just guessed," I say.

"maybe we should do that test the humans do when they suspect someone is psychic," Polly Pocket says. "the one where one person has a deck of cards and the other person has to guess which card he's drawing until there are no more cards left."

I sigh and shake my head. I have a feeling this stupid test is going to last for hours.

...

"I'll be damned," Polly Pocket says, putting down the deck of cards for the seventh time. "you're guessing them _all_ correctly."

I sigh. "yeah, the first three times you made me do this stupid test should've told you that," I say.

"relax, Denyse. I know this isn't very fun for you, but they're just curious," Dio says, putting a glass of wine in front of me, probably hoping it'll get me in a better mood.

"besides, they'll owe you for this and it's never a bad thing to have an Olympian god or two owe you a favor."

I laugh and nod. "true, I could have a lot of fun with that," I say and I laugh again when Polly Pocket suddenly looks a bit worried.

I just sip my wine and look at him with my most intense stare, making him look even more uncomfortable.

"okay, so next is the aura-thing," Xena says, obviously not all that worried about the favor she now owes me.

"I was wondering if it was just the natural, incontrollable aura that doesn't affect you or if your emotions can't be affected _at all,_ " she says.

"well, if my 'power' is my truth-eyes then my emotions have nothing to do with it, right? I'm just unaffected by Puck's aura because it causes people to not see the truth about him and I'm good at dealing with Ares – uh, I mean Twix – because I have a lot of practice in keeping my emotions in check. I did get more easily pissed off with the whole 'baby-thing', possibly because his aura was stronger than usual," I admit.

"possibly, but not definitely. You could've just been in a bad mood, what with that stuff with your mother and Dio fighting and all. We can just use Pol for this test. I'll ask you some questions and you have to lie about the answers," she says, nodding at Polly Pocket.

I guess he's going to use his ability to force people to tell the truth on me.

"alright, let's start," Xena says, sitting down and staring at me. "what is your name?" she asks. "Julia," I say, rolling my eyes.

Polly Pocket's eyes go big and then he squints, either he's trying to concentrate really hard or he's constipated, I'm not sure which.

"how old are you?"

"you know, you should ask questions that don't have more than one answer," I say. "my name: Denyse or Leila. My age: twenty-two or fifteen. There is no real lie or truth there, because there is no definite answer."

"alright then, what color is my hair?" she asks.

"purple with little green dots," I say, sipping my wine and laughing when both Polly Pocket and Xena look at me as though I've lost my mind completely.

"what? You told me to lie, right?" I ask, smiling.

"I guess you really are completely immune to our auras," Polly Pocket says eventually, sighing deeply.

...

"yeah, and to our conscious powers. That's a bit odd. Maybe this has little to do with your truth-eyes. Maybe your immunity to our powers is another power altogether," Xena muses.

"well, that could be connected to my passing out all the time," I say. "because I tend to lock my emotions up, not showing them, but eventually that gets to be so stressing that I pass out. Well, the doctors say that doesn't make sense, but that's what I always thought. If your powers affect my emotions, it's possible I just lock the emotions caused by your powers up like I do all other emotions that I don't want to deal with or show."

"hmm, so you have complete control over your emotions – but you 'control' them too much, which causes you to pass out –, you have a ridiculously good intuition, _always_ guessing correctly and seeing things for what they are, no matter how hard anyone tries to hide the truth of it, you can drink without it negatively affecting your body and you _might_ be causing people's insanity, like Cindy's, Peter's and your mother's. I think we just figured out _all_ of your powers, or at least the strong ones," Dio says, smiling widely.

"quite an impressive lot it is too," Polly Pocket says.

"I think you just might be as powerful as any minor deity out there, not like a normal demi-god," Xena agrees.

"yeah, just call me the goddess of intuition," I mumble jokingly.

"hey, that would work, we don't have one of those yet," Puck says, sounding totally serious.

"Hecate, goddess of crossroads. Also known as the goddess of mature intuition," I say, shrugging.

"yeah, but she's more a goddess of choices than of intuition," Xena says, apparently also going along with this.

"and since your truth-eyes still seem to be your central power, the name fits. 'Denyse, goddess of intuition'. I like it," Dio says, smiling widely, making me sigh and take another gulp of wine.

These people have lost their minds, apparently.

"yeah, except I'm no goddess. No immortality or anything like that, remember?" I ask and then all just shrug in perfect synchronism.

"that could be easily fixed," Puck says. "whenever Olympian gods have a half-mortal child that they especially favor, they can give that child a piece of their own life-force and make them immortal. I was half-mortal once, you know? But the immortality really isn't all that important. It's about whether or not you have something that makes you unique, some power that no other god on Olympus has, that determines whether or not you may be called 'a goddess'. and you _do_ have a power no other god has, so..."

I just sigh and shake my head. Yeah, they've definitely lost their collective minds.


	12. The perfect life

**A/N:** I've been having some major writersblock, mostly because I've been trying to get the story to where I need it to go without rushing it (to keep it from being something like 'they're just having an awesome day and the sun is shining and BOOM! the world has ended') so I write and write and never get anywhere, ending up with mostly exposition/filler. Still, I think I have it figured out now, so we're going to get to the action soon.

 **Disclaimer:** nothing ownable in this chapter, but I'm too paranoid to leave the disclaimer out completely. Last thing I need is being banned from this site for accidentally mentioning something patented in this story.

* * *

 **12. The perfect life**

"I can't believe you guys have somehow convinced _everyone_ that I'm a freaking goddess in less than three hours time," I sigh, flopping down on Puck's bed and closing my eyes.

"you _are_ a 'freaking goddess'," Puck says, lying down next to me, but not touching me, probably sensing I just need to rest right now.

"no, I'm a demi-god with some unusual powers," I say, opening my eyes to look at him, finding him smiling at me.

"yeah, we have a name for girls like that, they're called goddesses," he says and I laugh.

"I hate you," I say.

"you love me," he says confidently, leaning over to give me a quick kiss.

"now, let's just get some sleep. It's been a long day," he says, kicking off his shoes, but not bothering to undress further before pulling the blankets up over us. He reaches for me with his arms and I crawl into them.

"say, I was thinking..." he says, suddenly sounding nervous.

"hmm?" I ask, suddenly feeling exhausted.

It really has been a long day. Fighting with my mom, saving the baby – who turned out to indeed be a girl and has been called Evelyn –, finding out about my powers, the tests, the goddess-thing,... I'm beat.

"well, we're both adults, somewhat. I mean, you're physically fifteen, but..." he says and I laugh.

"Puck, just say whatever it is you want to say already," I say.

"well, my dad built me a house a while back, here on Olympus. I still haven't moved in, because I didn't want to be in that big house all alone, but..."

"are you asking me to move in with you?" I ask, just to be sure, although it seems pretty obvious that's _exactly_ what he's asking.

He sighs and nods.

"well, you already sleep over pretty much every night. The last time you slept in your own room or even in Dion's house up here was weeks ago," he says and I smile.

"hmm, I don't particularly mind," I say. "but then Ares – I mean Twix, goddammit. I refuse to allow him to escape his nickname that easily. Anyway, he wouldn't be able to spoil us rotten anymore."

He laughs and shrugs.

"I know my dad. He'll come over with stuff he thinks we might need or he'll come 'check if we're doing okay' at least six times a day the first few months," he says.

"for being the god of war, he's really just a big softie, isn't he?" I ask and Puck laughs again.

"don't tell him that, he'll feel the need to prove to you exactly how 'bad-ass' he is. Last time he did that to me, I had nightmares for a week. And not the kind I like, either," he says.

"hmm, let's just sleep and we'll figure out the details about this tomorrow, alright?" I ask. He nods and pulls me a bit closer, getting comfortable.

...

"I can't believe I only just found you and a man is _already_ taking you away from me," Dio sighs, helping me pack my things.

I laugh and shrug.

"I'll still be down here at least half of the time and running around Olympus the other half. I'll only really change where my stuff is and where I'll be sleeping, but when was the last time I actually slept here anyway?" I ask.

"so, I guess you and Phobos are getting pretty serious, huh?" he asks, sighing again.

"I don't know, I think we were pretty serious right off the bat. I mean, at first it was just that I thought he was good-looking, but by then we were already friends. And someone – I can't really remember who – once said 'love is little more than an addition of friendship and lust'," I say.

"well, sure. I knew you loved him, somewhat, but now you're moving in with him. That's pretty serious," he says. "I mean, that's only one step away from marriage."

I laugh and shake my head.

"well, I'm technically only fifteen right now, it'll be another three years before I'll even be _allowed_ to get married, legally," I say.

"down here, maybe, but almost everyone on Olympus already knows you're actually twenty-two, so as far as they're concerned, you're already allowed to get married. And since Hera is the one who usually performs the wedding ceremony, you really don't have to wait. Not that I want you to rush things or anything," he hurries to say, making me laugh again.

"look, I like Puck. I might even _love_ him. But marriage is a really big step to take, much bigger than just moving in together, so that's not something I'll do after just a few weeks or months of dating," I say, making him sigh in obvious relief.

"and we're being safe, so you don't have to worry about grandbabies anytime soon, either."

He makes a face and I laugh.

"yeah, your daughter has sex, get over it," I say and he sighs deeply.

"nah, as far as I'm concerned, you're an eternal virgin, so I don't want to hear anything about babies or sex coming from you," he says.

"you say that now, but a few years from now, when I can't see my feet anymore because my tummy is so big, you'll be floating around on a cloud of happiness because there's a grandbaby on the way," I say.

...

"I thought you said your dad built you a _house_ ," I say, frowning.

"right. He built this himself when I turned two-thousand," Puck says. "you coming?"

I'm still frowning, but I follow him into the 'house' anyway.

"Puck, darling, this is no 'house'," I say.

"what do you mean? Of course it's a house. It has four walls and a roof. A house," he says, shrugging.

"first of all: it actually has eight walls and only if you don't count the ones on the inside. Second: it has an indoor _pool_ , for goodness sake. This is _not_ a house, it's a freaking mansion," I say.

Puck chuckles. "this really isn't that much bigger than the house you lived in 'downstairs'," he says.

"uh, sure, but I lived there with, like, _seven_ others. That was more an apartment-building than a house," I say, shaking my head. "besides, that 'house' down there is actually listed in the books as 'a mansion'."

"yeah, well, this is _our_ mansion now. House or no house, we'll still make it home," he says, grabbing me from behind and putting his head on my shoulder.

"besides, we need room for the servants dad's sending our way. A normal house wouldn't have servant-quarters, would it?"

I laugh. "yeah, I guess you were right about your dad spoiling us even from a distance. I mean, who gives his son half the staff as a 'moving-out'-present? That's insane," I say.

"true, but since I have no idea how to maintain a pool and we are both too lazy to cook or clean for ourselves, I'm not complaining," he says, laughing as well.

"true, with the servants taking care of everything for us, we'll have more time for the fun stuff," I say.

"like what?" he asks and I chuckle.

"well, we need to christen this place," I say, turning in his arms and looking up at him, smiling sweetly.

"oh, right. Wouldn't do for us to forget about that," he says, smiling widely.

"we need to christen the bedroom and the kitchen and the hallway and the servant quarters – preferably _before_ the servants arrive – and the bathroom and..." he says, pulling me up the stairs by my arm as he talks.

I just laugh cheerfully, already looking forward to it.

...

"I'm not getting up," I mumble when the doorbell rings at 8AM.

Too damn early.

It's the summer holidays, I'm supposed to be allowed to sleep in.

"it's my dad," Puck sighs, but he also makes no move to get out of bed.

"he promised to come by today, bringing little Evelyn," he says and I sigh.

"flip for it?" I ask, taking my wallet from the nightstand and pulling out my medal.

"heads," he says and I flip it. "damn," I mumble when it falls with Chronos' face facing up.

"fine, I'll go. But you owe me," I say, making him laugh.

"after last night? I would think _you_ owe _me_ ," he says.

I just shake my head and step into my slippers, walking out of the bedroom in my PJ's. It's not like this would be the first time Ares sees me in them.

I open the front door of the 'house' and frown.

"you're not Ares," I say, making the lady laugh.

"very astute," she says.

"I am Aphrodite," she says. "I came to give a proper welcome to our newest goddess, but it seems it is a bit too early for that."

I sigh and shake my head.

"nah, come on in. I'll go wake Puck and get dressed. It'll take ten minutes, tops," I say, making a vague gesture towards the living room and starting up the stairs.

"Puck, Aphrodite is here," I say, kicking him in the side so he'll fall off the bed and walking towards the closet in the same movement.

That trick took me a lot of practice, but it was totally worth the time I spent on perfecting it.

"why is that woman here?" he asks.

"I take it you don't like her?" I ask, pulling on the first shirt I can get my hands on.

"she's a typical _woman_ ," he says, grabbing the clothes he wore yesterday and pulling them on. "always worrying about her appearance, always talking about boys or shopping or shoes or 'shopping for shoes for a date with a boy'. My brain automatically shuts off whenever she walks into the room."

I laugh and shake my head. "well, she's here to give me a 'proper welcome', whatever that may mean, so be nice, alright?" I ask.

He grumbles something I can't understand and shrugs.

"her giving you 'a proper welcome' just means from now on she won't be pretending you don't exist anymore and she'll allow you to follow her around like a well-trained little puppy," he says, making me sigh.

"I hate popular girls," I mumble, but as I say it I'm putting on my pants and hurrying Puck up so she won't have to wait long.

...

After about three hours I know exactly where to buy the best clothes and what the real story is behind Aphrodite's marriage, but I still have no idea what her 'proper welcome' means.

Guess Puck was right and it simply means she'll stop ignoring me, feeling like I'm unworthy of her – a lowly demi-god.

Too bad for her it's the people that spent time with me _before_ I 'became a goddess' that'll be spending time with me from now on.

Like I'd want to be friends with someone who'd completely ignore anyone that simply wasn't born with the same privileges as them. Those are the kinds of people I've been trying to avoid my entire life so far and that's not changing anytime soon.

So when she gets up to leave and tells me 'we should definitely hang out sometimes', I politely decline.

Well, 'you seem to be the kind of person I absolutely _do not_ want to hang out with, _ever_ ' sounds polite enough, right?

"slamming the door? Seriously? What is she, five?" I ask, making Puck laugh.

"she's not used to people not loving her on first sight. Goddess of love and beauty and all that," he says.

"yeah, well, I'm the goddess of intuition and my intuition is telling me to stay far, far away from that woman," I say, cleaning up the mess she made.

Cookie-crumbs all over the table and couch, her teacup cracked from when she slammed it down on the table, too engrossed in her own story to be careful, sugar all over the table – apparently being a goddess doesn't mean you automatically know how to put the sugar _in the cup._ For being the goddess of beauty she sure is messy.

"oh, don't worry about her. You're not a true member of the family until you've pissed her off at least once," Ares says, walking into the room with a big smile on his face and Evelyn in his arms.

"I'm not worried about her being angry with me. I'm worried she'll try to give me a _make-over_ ," I say, shuddering at the thought, making Puck and Ares laugh. Evelyn also laughs, but I don't think even she herself knows why.

It's a fun, happy sound. She doesn't look too scary either, but that could just be because of my inability to see aura's.

...

"how cute," I say, reaching for her and smiling when Ares takes his time making sure I'm holding her _exactly_ right before letting her go.

"son of a bitch!" I yell, surprising and confusing Ares and Puck.

"why, why, _why_ are you not Twix anymore?" I ask, glaring angrily at Ares, who is now laughing his ass off.

"as I've told you at least seven times in the last two days: I don't know," he says.

It's true, he does keep saying that. Doesn't stop me from asking, though.

For _two days_ now I've been trying to get my stupid brain to go back to calling him Twix, but so far it's not working.

I can control my emotions to the extreme, but apparently my _thoughts_ are still as incontrollable as ever.

"she doesn't look very war-ish," Puck says, looking at Evelyn and frowning.

Ares laughs again. "don't be fooled. That girl is the poster-child for deception. She's pretty, she's adorable and she always smiles and laughs happily. Except when things don't go her way. When the nanny was three minutes late feeding her, she tore apart her crib. When she was crying because her diaper was full and nobody came soon, she pretty much destroyed _the entire room_. She's almost as strong as _I_ am and she's only a baby," he says, looking down at her proudly.

I guess, no matter how sweet and soft he is towards his loved ones, he is still truly a god of war. Leave it to him to be _proud_ of his baby tearing apart her crib or destroying her room in a temper tantrum.

"so we got 'war', with his children 'fear', 'dread', 'revenge' and now 'deceit'. Great track-record, Twix," I say, shaking my head and laughing when Ares mumbles a complaint about being called 'Twix' again.

"actually, I only have 'fear' and now 'deceit'. Those other two – and the list of several dozens others that humans believed to be mine – were actually just random people who wanted to seem more important than they were, so they made up some great story about me raping their mothers which then resulted in their birth. And then there were the women who cheated on their husbands and got pregnant – giving birth to a child with green eyes when both she and her husband have brown eyes or something like that – so they decided to pretend it was _a god_ who is the father of the child so they don't have to admit to the crime of adultery. Because everyone knows saying 'no' to a god would just result in death or rape anyway, so why bother?" Ares explains, shrugging and sitting down on the couch.

...

"well, whatever. At least I won't have to worry about anything like that. Firstly, I'm a woman, so it wouldn't make sense for any woman to claim _I_ got her pregnant. And secondly, nowadays saying 'a _god_ is the father/mother of my child' is just as believable as saying you got kidnapped by aliens and came back to earth with a bun in the oven," I say, sitting down next to Ares, Evelyn still lying in my arms. "besides, nobody even knows I exist, so even if anyone _would_ believe the 'my baby is a demi-god' story, nobody would think to use _me_ as the one that mothered the kid."

"it's true, it's mostly the Olympians that have to worry about stuff like that. Humans rarely think to use as minor deity as their baby's other parent. Which is stupid, because out of all of us, it's the Olympians that are the busiest. It's _far_ more likely for a minor god to have the time to go knock up some humans," Puck says, smiling at the stupidity of the humans.

I sigh deeply and then laugh, confusing both Puck and Ares.

"I just realized we're having a conversation about 'the stupid things humans do' when, just a few weeks ago, I wasone of those humans myself," I explain.

I lay Evelyn back down in Ares' arms and walk over to the chair where Puck is sitting, dropping myself down onto his lap.

"well, technically, you were never truly human," Ares says, smiling down at Evelyn and for a second he looks like any other new father, his smile proud and his eyes kind.

But then he looks back up to me and that slightly evil glint comes back in his eyes, making him look like the kind of person that, if you ever saw him in a back-alley at night, would make you decide tonight is as good a night as any to take the _long_ way home.

"even in your old timeline, you weren't truly human. Sure, you _thought_ you were, but you already had your powers, right? Using your truth-eyes to figure out if you're going to have a brother or a sister, avoiding people your intuition told you were bad people,..."

I laugh and shrug.

"yeah, but in my old timeline I never would have figured out that I am a demi-god – I still refuse to call myself a 'goddess' – so I would've lived and died as a human," I say.

...

"we don't know that. You stopped living in that timeline when you were pretty young, so there's no telling what would've happened. Dion had already figured out you were his daughter – which is why he gave you that medal – so _we_ already knew who you where. And since you're Dion's _only_ child, he would've wanted to be involved in your life even if you decided not to make that wish. Eventually he would've found a way to let you know about your parentage and then we would've had that whole 'does she have powers at all? What powers does she have? By the gods, she's not a demi-god, she's a full-blown goddess!'-thing after all," Ares says, shrugging.

"you know, this is giving me a headache," I say, sighing again. "most of the time I'm fine, but every now and then I'll stop to think about everything that's going on, about the time-travel, about Olympus, about you guys, and then I'll realise that everyone around me is acting like this is all completely normal. I was born and raised in a world where 'magic' was a thing you saw in movies or something people imitated to entertain their audience, not a real thing that's all around us. A world where 'the gods' could be found only in the stories of the past, in myths and legends, not behind a door in the attic of a completely normal house."

"and in the back-room of a casino, and in the storage-room of a seven-eleven, and..." Puck says, laughing when I frown in confusion.

"there are doors to Olympus all over the world," he says. "most of them near the 'earthly homes' of residents of this place."

"you didn't think the door you use was the only one, did you? That we'd all come down there and have to get on a airplane if we wanted to go somewhere else? That wouldn't be a very effective way to travel, now would it?" Ares asks, laughing at my ignorance of things that I've never encountered before.

...

"I don't know, it just sounds more logical for a door to the world of the _Greek_ gods to be in Greece than in Spain or something," I say, making him laugh even harder.

"did you forget that the Greek empire stretched all across Europe, Africa and even Asia? Most of us were born in the times that the Greeks were in control of a huge part of the world, the Hellenistic period, as it's now called. _That_ is why we're called the 'Greek gods', not because we were all born in this one tiny little country that is now called Greece," he says.

I shrug. "you can't expect me to know all this. The only things I know about Greek divinity is what I've learned in school and by watching some late-night documentary on the subject," I admit. "and of course by what you guys have told me yourselves in the last few weeks."

"don't worry about it. You have eternity to figure out the ins and outs of this place," Puck says and I smile.

"still not immortal," I say and he shrugs.

"still easily fixable," he says in the same tone of voice, making me laugh.

I put my head down on his shoulder and sigh again.

"it really bothers you, doesn't it?" he asks, suddenly serious again.

"I just don't understand half the stuff that's going on around me, and even inside of me," I admit. "it doesn't bother me to the extreme, but it does give me a headache."

"do you regret making that wish?" he asks and I can hear the strain in his voice. He's waiting for me to say 'yes', to admit I'd give him up if it means I wouldn't have to deal with all this confusing stuff.

"I don't know," I say, completely honest. "there are moments where I wonder if all this is really worth it, but there are also moments where I think about what my life was like before I came here and then I think 'yes, it really _is_ worth it'. So, I don't know. Sometimes I wish I was back in my old, boring life, because at least _that_ life was predictable and safe. This one is far more exiting and I have a future to look forward to, rather than to dread, but it is also unpredictable and confusing. I made that wish stupidly hoping I would be able to make my life _perfect_ , but I guess I'm learning that there is no such thing as a perfect life, no matter if you're a human, a god or something else entirely."

"wow, that's deep," Ares says sarcastically and I glare at him, but that makes him laugh.

"your anger is adorable," he just says.

"I have to get back. Let me know if you two need anything." he gets up, careful not to jostle Evelyn too much, and walks to the door without waiting for our answer.


	13. My pre-marriage honeymoon

**A/N:** Sitting here wondering what you guys actually think about the story and it's characters. I mean, I'm pretty sure that if you've read this far, you've already started to hate/pity the mom, but what about Puck? Or Lynn (remember her)? Or even Trisha and Moon? I've had quite a bit of readers and even 1 fav/follower, but no reviews, which I think is kinda weird. I mean, even if you hate the story, couldn't you take the time to tell me what's wrong with it? Not that I'm ever going to be one of those 'review or I won't update' writers, but still... If you have a few seconds to spare, tell me what you think about the story and it's characters so far, okay?

 **Disclaimer:** Should I add that I don't own the twix candy-bar? Or the Polly pocket toy? I never really thought about that, since they're just 'names' to me, but I just realised that those are patented. Guess it's a good thing I always put a disclaimer in, huh?

* * *

 **13. My pre-marriage honeymoon**

"so..." Dio says, looking from me to my mother and back.

Trisha and Moon are in the kitchen, raiding the fridge.

They decided that when me, Dio and my mom are in the same room together, they want to be anywhere _but_ in that room.

It didn't go so well the last few times.

I haven't talked to my mother since Dio kicked her out of the house and from the looks of it, she's still blaming _me_ for that.

Dio tried to take some of her newfound insanity from her when she walked through the front door just now, but from the confused and troubled look he had in his eyes when he led her to the living room and the way she's now glaring at me like I'm the root of all evil, I'd say it didn't work.

I'll have to ask him about that when she leaves.

"I've figured out the solution to all our problems," my mother says, a haughty look in her eyes.

Oh, this should be good.

Dio looks at her questioningly and she smiles, arrogantly pointing at me.

"every time we argue and every time something goes wrong, she's there in the middle of it all. It's only natural to assume _she's_ the root of our problems. I haven't yet sold my old house, so she can go back to live there and me, Moon and Trisha will stay here. With her out of the way, there shouldn't be any more issues for the rest of us," she says.

I'd laugh if she didn't sound like she actually means it.

"even if she _was_ the problem, which she really isn't, that still wouldn't work," Dio says, deciding to go along with my mom the way you'd go along with a sleepwalker or something, careful not to wake them up and scare them.

"why is that?" my mom asks.

"she's only fifteen," Dio says and my mom shrugs.

"so?" she asks. "she'll be sixteen in June. That's only two months away. There are plenty of sixteen year-olds that live alone with the permission of their parents, so I don't see what the problem is."

"well, since you apparently have no problem leaving your own daughter to rot, I don't see why _you_ can't just get your ass back to your old home and leave the two of us alone," Dio says, getting so angry so suddenly I'm confused until I see Ares standing in the doorway, glaring at my mom.

...

"oh, hey Twix," I say, getting up and leading him out of the room so Dio can talk to my mom without killing her because of Ares' aura.

"it's Twix again, huh?" he asks, sighing deeply and mumbling something in Greek that I can't understand but I'm pretty sure is insulting.

"what's up?" I ask, ignoring his question.

"Phobos wanted to know if you had time for a grand tour of Olympus. He's currently putting together a picnic-basket and everything," he says, smiling at his son's silliness.

"he just realized that you've been living on Olympus for almost two whole weeks now and the only things you've seen are the park, Dio's place, your own home, my house and Sei's house. Considering all the other awesome things that Olympus has, that's a kinda disappointing track-record."

"are you telling me there is a place on Olympus that is _more_ awesome than Aqua's house?" I ask and he laughs.

"Sei's house _is_ one of the weirdest things there, I'll admit that," he says.

I nod, thinking back on my first day on Olympus, when Herby took me to Aqua's house.

The above-water part of the house really isn't that awesome. It's just a normal house, or at least as normal as any 'house' that belongs to an Olympian god can be.

It's the under-water part that's freaky. Mostly because it doesn't have walls. It's like the path to the house, at some point the water just _stops_ , which is weird enough, but then he also has a _million_ aquariums, like being able to see the fish swimming around the room isn't enough, he also has to have them swimming _in_ the room.

There also isn't a floor, so you'd think your feet would at least get wet from walking on the water – I felt like Jesus for a second – but they don't.

My shoes stayed bone-dry the whole time. It was like there was just a couple of weird square-shaped bubbles of air in the water where someone had put furniture that magically stayed in place and didn't sink.

He even has televisions and radio's and stuff. How he gets electricity down there is beyond me, but I guess if you're a god things like 'electricity and water don't match' just doesn't apply to you.

...

"Phobos sent me on a mad quest to help him plan this entire trip in a single day, he's too impatient to wait. So I've talked to Hera and she'll allow you two to walk around in the palace; Pollo has opened up his sunroom for you, which is far more impressive than you'd think; you can go have lunch in Anteros' garden – he has been pestering me endlessly about introducing you to him for some reason and his garden is truly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Ares says.

"that actually terrifies me," I admit. "I've seen that room in your house that you said was 'the most beautiful' and it gave me nightmares."

Ares laughs, looking very happy about that – which should piss me off, but since I'm used to it from Puck, I just ignore it – and shrugs.

"don't worry, Anteros' garden is nothing like that. Actually it's just trees and flowers and stuff, a real 'garden', but there's a huge amount of magic in the air there that makes it the most beautiful thing to whoever sees it," he explains and I frown.

"so would it look pretty to me or would it just look like a regular garden since I'm immune to that kind of magic?" I ask.

Ares thinks about that for a minute and then just shrugs again.

"I guess you'll find out at lunch. After that you're going to Demeter's farm, which – like Pollo's sunroom – is far more impressive than you'd think; and then on to Hephaestus' forge – Aphrodite might be there, but you can just ignore her like everyone else does. I guess that would be all for today, because all of those places are huge and you won't want to have to rush through it all. So today is completely planned out and we have some ideas for tomorrow – like Elysium and the Garden of Dreams, both in the underworld – but nothing set in stone yet. I'll keep working on that today while you go have fun with Phobos," he says, looking happier than I've ever seen him.

It doesn't take me long to figure out where his good mood is coming from. I laugh.

"you know, for a god of war you are _seriously_ soft with feelings when it comes to your son, going _this_ far to make him happy," I say and I know I've made a grave mistake when I see a calculating and cold glimmer appear in his eyes.

"you know, Tartarus is also in the underworld. Would be _real_ easy to send you in the wrong direction down there," he says and then he walks away, smiling evilly and I know I'll have to sleep with one eye open for a while.

Damn. Puck warned me about this. Guess I should've listened to him.

...

"you called him mushy, didn't you?" Puck asks me later, when we're on our way to 'the palace', which is where Hera and Zeus live – though Hera usually bans Zeus from the place and forces him to live in his house down on earth.

Ares was at my house when I arrived, but he just glared at me and left when I tried to apologize.

"I called him 'soft with feelings'. It just happened, I couldn't stop myself," I admit. "I mean, he's running around Olympus, trading in favors left and right, just so you and I can have this 'pre-marriage honeymoon'-thingy. That is pretty much the definition of 'soft with feelings' right there."

Puck just looks at me for a long time, a silly smile on his face and I sigh.

"that was not a proposal," I say. "or a prediction that we will ever get married or anything like that. I just didn't know what to call this trip and that was the first thing that popped into my head."

Puck shrugs and just keeps smiling.

"I wonder what our real honeymoon will be like," he says dreamily, making me sigh again.

"what it _would_ be like, that is, if we ever have one," I say. "we've only been dating for a month or so. It's too soon to tell. Sure, we're already living together, but that's more out of convenience than anything else."

"it was perfectly 'convenient' for me to live with my dad and you didn't live all that terribly with Zeus and Dion," he argues stubbornly.

"sure, but it was more convenient for us _as a couple_ to live together. There is a travel-time of _half an hour_ between mister Javelin's mansion down there and Ares' house up here. So whenever I was with my dad, I'd have to travel a super-long way to get to you. This is easier," I say, though I know my argument isn't really that strong.

The travel-time between Dio and Puck hasn't changed, only my starting point on the journey.

From the look on Pucks face, he knows it too.

...

"then let me ask you this: can you see us getting married? Even just hypothetically, somewhere in the far, far future?" he asks.

I want to answer instantly, repeat that it's too soon to tell, but he deserves better than that, so I give it some real thought.

"maybe," I say eventually. "I mean, you're a god, so you don't get affected by my 'crazy vibes' the way my mom and my friends do – I haven't even spoken to Lynn since that day she saw me with you, she's avoiding me now – and _I_ don't get affected by your 'scary vibes' the way everyone else does, so in that aspect it'd be perfect for us to stay together. And you're _really_ hot, so that's a definite plus. I wouldn't want to marry someone ugly, no matter how kind and awesome they are. That might be selfish of me, but I just feel that if I have to look at someone's face every day of the rest of my life, I definitely want that face to be pleasant to look at. You're fun to be around and our sex-life is never boring – though sometimes I _want_ it to be a bit more boring, because some of the things you like are just..." I shiver and shake my head, making him laugh and shrug, totally unrepentant.

"I'm really 'over the top crazy' sometimes and you're okay with that. And you can be kinda scary and more than a little insulting at times and _I'm_ okay with _that_. So yeah, theoretically you'd be the ideal husband for me and I'd be the ideal wife for you. But that's just in theory. In real life there's no telling what will happen. Neither of us have the power to see the future and even Polly Pocket can't see our future because you're a god. So who knows what will happen? Maybe, a few months or years from now, you'll find out something about me that's a total deal-breaker for you. Or I'll get sick of you constantly leaving me creepy notes or pretending to be severely injured, hoping I'll get scared. Maybe we'll be together forever and maybe we'll break up in a few weeks and never speak to each other again. I just don't know," I say.

I get the feeling that Puck completely ignored the second half of my speech and is only focusing on the 'we're a perfect fit' part when his smile gets bigger and he looks utterly ecstatic.

...

"I wouldn't mind living in a place like this," I say, looking around the hallway in awe.

If the _hallway_ is this impressive, what do the actual rooms look like?

"well, Zeus _is_ the ruler of pretty much everything but the underworld, so obviously he'd have his own palace. We don't get that, since we're just minor deities," Puck says, still looking stupidly happy from our earlier conversation.

I hope he's not planning to propose. I might forget my current age sometimes, but even in my own timeline I'd only be twenty-two and that is still a little young to get married. And in this timeline I'm only fifteen. Sure, like my mother pointed out this morning, I'll be sixteen in two months – or twenty-three, depending on how you look at it – but still...

"I'm not a 'minor deity', I'm a demi-god," I say, deciding not to touch on the other subject again.

He won't listen to anything I say unless it's in his favor anyway.

"you keep saying that, but a demi-god is someone who is 'half god', that's what the 'demi' stands for," he says, shrugging.

"right, which is what I am. My dad is a god and my mom isn't. That means I have exactly 50% goddess in me," I say.

He just stares at me for a while and then shrugs. Guess he's finally given up on trying to convince me that I'm a real goddess.

"don't you like our house?" he asks, seeing me looking around in wonder.

I shrug. "I like our place just fine, but even you have to admit that this place is pretty majestic, especially compared to our home," I say and he laughs.

"that could be because this is a _palace_ , and not a _house,_ " he says, making me laugh as well.

"our home is not a 'house', it's a mansion," I say and he rolls his eyes.

"our home is not a house, you're not a goddess and we haven't known each other long enough to get married," he says sarcastically, walking away before I can respond.

Damn, guess he hasn't given up on that after all.

...

"ugh, so bright," I complain, shielding my eyes from the blinding light.

I can hear Polly Pocket laughing and I try to glare at him, but that just makes him laugh harder as it causes me to close my eyes again immediately.

"it's really very beautiful," Puck says, also laughing, but when I glare at _him_ , he stops laughing. Probably because he knows how mean I can be when I'm _really_ angry.

Slowly I open my eyes, looking around the room carefully.

"you know, I know they call this 'a sunroom', but I don't think you should get blinded by the sun every time you walk into it," I say.

Polly Pocket laughs. "it doesn't blind me," he just says, shrugging. There's a small, haughty smile on his face and I laugh.

"very impressive, you can stare into the sun. call me when you've developed x-ray vision or can make people go crazy just from being in the same room with then. Then we'll talk," I say.

He just laughs happily and presses a button on the wall.

I can hear a grinding noise and then my head suddenly feels like it's exploding.

Even closing my eyes doesn't help, the light is just too bright.

I can hear Puck grinding his teeth and I know that even he doesn't think this is funny anymore.

I can hear the grinding noise again and the pain in my head starts to slowly fade away.

"you can keep your x-ray vision, little miss intuition," Polly Pocket says, laughing his ass off.

I can't see him, my eyes still refuse to work. Even when I open my eyes, I see nothing but red.

"if I've gone permanently blind, I'll kill you," I threaten, rubbing my eyes.

He's still laughing. Apparently he thinks this is all very funny. I don't see the humor right now.

"I'm immortal, remember?" he asks.

"I'll find a way," I say, still rubbing until I can feel someone grabbing my wrists and forcing my hands away from my face.

"you'll just make it worse," Puck says softly. "just wait, it'll pass."

...

"you should ask your dad to initiate you as soon as possible," Puck says. I look at him – or at least, I look in the direction where I think he is – and frown in confusion.

"you'll heal a lot faster after he gives you a part of his own immortality," he explains.

"I'm not even sure he'll want to 'initiate me'," I say and I shrug. "wouldn't that pretty much mean he has to take full responsibilities for everything I do over the next few centuries or something? Ares explained this all to me a while ago, but I wasn't really paying attention," I admit.

"he has to take full responsibility for you for the next five-hundred years," Polly Pocket agrees.

I can feel something cold pressing into my hand.

"it's just soda," he says when I try to look at it.

He sounds apologetic, like he really feels bad about – possibly permanently – blinding me. Good.

"I forgot you were still part human," he says. "so I figured it'd heal in just a few seconds. A couple minutes, tops."

"can't you just heal me?" I ask. "you can fix anything as long as you know what the problem is, right? Well, you know what the problem is, so fix it."

"it's not really an injury or an illness. Your eyes just need to readjust themselves," he says. "the eye-drops I gave you can speed up the process and I've darkened the room – though you probably can't tell – so that'll also help. Now it's just a matter of waiting. Besides, even when I heal something, I usually just speed up the natural healing process or I'll start a healing process when there wasn't one before. For a simple flu or something, that usually means you'll be perfectly healthy again after just an hour or two, but for something that usually lasts years or even things that are chronic or incurable it can take up to a week to heal completely."

...

"guess we're not having lunch in the heartbreak garden today," I say, sighing.

There's no point in staying angry at Polly Pocket.

He really didn't know that this would hurt me so badly, he thought it was just a funny joke.

For a god, I'm sure it was. Puck doesn't seem too angry.

Then again, he got his eyesight back over an hour ago, so that might have something to do with it.

"the heartbreak garden?" Polly Pocket asks and Puck laughs.

"Anteros' garden," he says. "apparently it's not just people that get funny nicknames. Since Anteros is the avenger of unrequited love, she decided his garden should be called 'heartbreak garden'."

"especially since it looks extremely beautiful for people when they're inside, but from the outside it just looks like a normal, somewhat boring garden. Just like love. When you're in love yourself everything seems wonderful, but after it's over you won't even be able to remember what it was that you liked so much about being in love," I explain, shrugging. "so when you're inside – when you're in love – everything seems beautiful and fun, but when you leave – after you've had your heart broken – it's just boring and sad. So, heartbreak garden."

"that is a terrible way of thinking," Polly Pocket says.

I just shrug again. "that's life," I say.

"I'll never think love is boring and sad," Puck says.

I can hear in his voice that he's back to smiling like an idiot. He's probably imagining us raising half a dozen little scary, insane children.

"I'm sure you _have_ thought that once or twice. I mean, was there never a time when you loved a girl, but she didn't want to be with you because of your scary vibes?" I ask, still refusing to touch on that other subject again.

"sure, but that was before I met you," he says, sounding stupidly happy again.

"yeah, but just because I won't break up with you because of your scary vibes, that doesn't mean I won't break up with you, ever. Like I said, maybe I'll get sick of those creepy notes or something. Maybe I'll even meet someone else. You never know," I say.


End file.
